Malcolm's Gambit
by Ichabod Ebenezer
Summary: Now Complete! Part 3 of the trilogy, start with An Occurrence at Malchoir and Kaylee's Choice. This one contains spoilers for the movie and the comics! Six months later, the Doctor is back, but Serenity has seen tragedy, and Kaylee is angry that the Doctor wasn't there to stop it. The Doctor isn't the same either, and he's brought a companion. Can they still evade the Alliance?
1. Chapter 1

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* * *

The man in the bloodstained jumpsuit stood up. He turned his head from side to side frantically, then grasped his helmet with both hands and tore it from his head. He had a chunk of metal protruding from his right cheek just below the eye and vicious scars extending from the corners of his mouth back to both ears. He was missing hair in clumps as if it had been ripped from his head. He was breathing heavily, and when his eyes locked onto the woman, he lunged at her.

The woman quickly raised a mare's leg and fired off a quick round, catching the Reaver mid-leap. He crashed to the ground at her feet and she backed up, cocking the gun to prime another shot. The two observers followed her as she backed into a hallway. One was greying, but still handsome. He was tall and dressed in the grey uniform of a high ranking Alliance officer. The other was only slightly shorter with lean muscles visible through his sleeveless black outfit. He had closely cropped black hair and a katana strapped to his back. He walked with an almost supernatural calm. The pair paused for a moment before entering the hallway to allow for a teenage girl with long dark hair to sweep past. She was carrying a long blade in each hand and blood sprayed from one as she whipped gracefully around the corner.

"Pause", called out the man in black, and time froze around the observers. He indicated the girl paused mid-run as he walked past her. "River Tam, but I'm sure you recognized her. Her face has been on every bulletin for the past year, but you may not know why. She is a telepath of the highest order. We trained her, but her brother broke her out of our facility before her training, indoctrination and surgery regimen could be completed. Extremely dangerous. This information is double cerulean classified." He had continued walking the entire time he was talking as if he were reading from a script, as if none of what he had said was particularly important.

He turned around when he reached the second woman, frozen in the act of firing another shot over River's shoulder. "Zoë Washburne Née Alleyne. No planet of origin, born aboard ship. Career military, fought on the losing side of Unification, never got past their particular fashion sense. Followed her sergeant into the private sector and married his pilot, now deceased."

The admiral walked up to Zoë with his hands clasped behind his back and bent to look her directly in the eye. "Yes. I've seen her type before. She doesn't so much have a cause that she would die for as a strong loyalty to someone who does. She'd follow that man into hell. Probably has."

He stood up straight again and walked past both her and the Operative. "But this is the one that interests me..." He continued down the hall to stand next to a thin man with unkempt hair. The man was pointing a small azure penlight at a control box and gritting his teeth beneath his helmet. He examined the man closely, his nose a scant inch from the Doctor's visor.

"And why does he interest you?", asked the Operative, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Have you ever seen a man before that went up against Reavers and didn't carry a weapon? What is this thing?", he asked, pointing at the sonic screwdriver, "Some sort of electronic lock pick?"

"More like a universal remote control. It appears he can use it to bypass security, access ship functions, and re-write basic functionality."

"Re-write basic functionality?"

"Yes, there was a program found on the ship's computer that opened the airlock door faster and bypassed safety locks. It appears that he uploaded it with that device", the Operative clarified. "Incidentally, there is a significant bonus if we retrieve that device intact for reverse engineering."

"Who is this man?"

"That is the question. If you peek through the visor, you'll note the brown coat, but his face doesn't match any known service record. For all we can tell he popped into existence, forced his way onboard this ship, cured the crew, made his escape and vanished entirely from the 'verse. He was not counted part of the crew during the Mr. Universe Incident."

"Back up - cured the crew?"

"Correct. They were Reavers. The entire crew of the Alliance vessel Agamemnon were infected along with the crew of a small transport ship, the Mary Celeste."

"You know Reavers don't work that way, right? They've been studied. There is no infection. There is no cure."

The Operative looked deadly serious. "Computer, play bridge footage, timecode 48185."

The scene around them shifted to a large room with bare walls for a moment, then shifted again. They were now standing on the enormous horseshoe shaped bridge of the cruiser. The Doctor was holding his pen light high in the air. He said, "Do you want to see it? Your way home?" He spoke with an accent the Admiral couldn't quite place. Dyton perhaps? But not quite right. The Doctor activated his electronic lock pick with the end again glowing blue, but now the Admiral could hear a buzzing sound coming from it. The battle shutters banged open. "Kaylee, vents on full!", the Doctor yelled.

The entire crew, who were wearing helmets of various make and model, as one lifted their visors, and the Admiral had to shield his eyes as an intense light filled the room. Moments later, the light faded and it became dim enough to see. The crew flopped to the floor.

"And now they are cured?", the Admiral asked, looking around.

"Evidently."

"Curious", said the Admiral. He looked around at the crew, some of whom were already gaining consciousness. "Why were they all wearing helmets on the bridge?"

"This is unclear. It appears that the crew members who had become Reavers only recently hadn't yet defaced themselves. Perhaps this was a way for them to hide their appearance? We may never know. The officers were of course interviewed after the event, but they only rambled about some kind of possession."

"I would like to interview their captain myself, if that can be arranged", the Admiral said.

"Pause", the Operative called out. They were back to the point they walked in at. "I'm afraid that's not possible. Like the rest of the crew, she has been silenced."

The Admiral was stunned. "The entire crew?"

The Operative showed no emotion in his response. "Of course. It was clearly necessary. I thought you understood. If not for the importance of this mission, and the nature of your implant, you would never have been granted access to this either."

The Admiral stepped over to face River Tam, frozen in the act of drawing her blades. "Because of her?", he asked incredulously. "What could she have in her head that everyone doesn't already know since the Incident?"

"Oh, it's not her", the Operative said with a hint of a smile. "Computer, port airlock, timecode 19312."

The scene shifted again. The Doctor was pacing now with his helmet off. "- You see, I'm an alien. A Timelord, to be precise, from Gallifrey in the constellation Kasterborous -"

"Computer stop", said the Assassin. The scene faded entirely. They were in a room with bare grey walls, featureless except for a single door and a control console on one wall. "Are you still interested in this man?"

The officer touched the back of his head where a small access port had been fitted. He was briefly curious what sort of things he had been made to forget in the past - but not too curious. If a later scan suggested that he wanted those memories back, he would quickly be silenced as well.

He shook himself of this pensive mood. "Follow." He walked quickly toward the door, which slid open as he approached. An ensign was standing just outside the door and was startled when it opened. She fell in step behind the Admiral and beside the Operative. The Admiral spoke without looking over his shoulder, "Have a course laid in for Meridian, full burn. I want us there within nine days-"

"How could you possibly know they'll head there?", the Operative interrupted.

"They won't be, but they will be nearby because we will drive them there. And don't interrupt." He walked on at a brisk pace. He kept closing his eyes and twiddling his fingers as he thought. "Post a bounty on all boards", he continued, "Raise the reward by 80,000 credits. Lieutenant Xiao is good with computers. Send him to my office." He stopped walking and faced the Operative. "The three of us have a video to doctor."


	2. Chapter 2

**Serious spoiler warning:** The very first paragraph below contains two separate spoilers for the comics. If you intend to read those, and you should, go do that now. I'll wait.

And I suppose I should disclaim. If you thought any of these characters or worlds were mine, fooled ya! I'm just a fan.

* * *

Kaylee Frye entered the bunk she shared with Simon, wrapped in a blanket and carrying a steaming mug of tea. She closed the door quietly so as not to wake him, and sat on the edge of the bed. She held her tea close to her face, feeling its warmth through the ceramic mug and breathing in its vapors while she contemplated the day ahead. Wasn't it about time for Simon to tell Zoë the sex of her baby? Kaylee felt sure that she could convince Simon today would be a good day for it. It would be something to bring a bit of excitement to the otherwise boring life they've been forced into.

Jobs weren't exactly easy to come by before, but now it seemed like no one would touch them. And any contact brought the possibility that someone would find the reward money too enticing. But on the other hand, supplies were dwindling and if they didn't get a job soon, the other option was starvation.

Kaylee was ripped from her contemplations by a familiar sound. It was faint, but it made all the little hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. She leapt off the bed, forgetting her mug of tea, which crashed to the deck, waking Simon. He rolled over blearily to see her drop her blanket and throw open the door, running at top speed.

There were times when she had dreamed she heard that wheezing sound, but the way the adrenaline was pumping through her told her this time it was real. She stopped in the mess, forcing herself to quiet so she could be sure of where it was. When it came again she took off instantly. Cargo bay. She went through the bay door and took the first set of steps at a jump. She turned a 180 to follow the catwalk, then looped around and down another flight of stairs. She threw her legs up over the handrails and slid to the bay floor. There it was, the blue box of the Tardis just materializing behind a couple of crates near the weight bench. "Jiàn tā de guǐ," she said through gritted teeth and walked purposely toward it.

As Kaylee came around the first box, the Tardis door opened and a young woman stepped out holding what looked like a small electronic toy. The girl had dark blonde hair pulled back in a tight pony tail and wore a leather jacket covered in badges and pins. She was looking back over her shoulder and so hadn't yet seen Kaylee. "Professor," she called. "How exactly is this going to help us find what we're looking for?"

Kaylee ducked back behind the crate and peered around the corner. "Professor?" she thought. No. It had to be the Doctor. There wasn't room enough in the 'verse for two such boxes.

"Well, Ace," called a man's voice from inside the Tardis. "Ever since their home planet of Adipose 3 disappeared, the Royal Family has been trying to re-establish their population." A strange man came out through the door, closing it behind himself. He was short, and older than the Doctor with thick eyebrows and curly hair poking out from beneath his Panama hat. He wore a brown jacket with a paisley scarf over a bizarre sweater covered in question marks. He had a tie loosely knotted around his neck and a black umbrella with a red handle hung over one arm.

Kaylee was shocked. It wasn't him after all. She ducked a little further behind the crate, but curiosity kept her watching.

The strange man known only as Professor continued speaking as he turned toward Ace. "Well, the Crown Prince is particularly randy, leaving a pheromone trail everywhere he goes. That device I cobbled together will pick up his trail. It will 'ding' if there's..." He waved his arms around, looking for the right word. "...stuff," he finally managed.

"Remind me to ask you later how a planet disappears." The young lady held up some sort of hand-held electronic device and extended an antenna. She flipped a switch, and the Professor stepped closer to look over her shoulder as a large clear reel started turning round and it emitted a warbling sound. She waved it slowly at arms length, slowly scanning the room. That's when she saw Kaylee. "Professor..."

Kaylee, having been seen, decided that whatever else, she was the one who belonged here. She stood up and stepped out from behind the crate.

The Professor brightened when he saw her. "Hello, young lady," he said gently, lifting his hat slightly from his head. "Don't be frightened." He took a couple steps closer to her. "I'm the Doctor, and this is my companion, Ace."

Suddenly, Kaylee flashed back to six months ago, on Earth-That-Very-Much-Is; something her Doctor had said too quickly to question: "Well, you would have seen somebody leave, and I would have explained that that was me, but how I've changed and what-not," and a hurried explanation he later gave Krans and Erak: "I'm the Doctor. Yes, I know. I lost the scarf and the floppy hat, but it's still me."

This _was_ him. Complete with scarf and hat. Kaylee's expression hardened and she slapped him hard across the face.

Ace burst out laughing for just a moment before stopping herself. "What was that about, Professor?"

"That's the trouble with time travel, Ace," he said, rubbing his cheek. "You occasionally get punished for things you haven't done yet."

Simon entered the cargo bay just then, followed by a hastily dressed Mal, braces dangling and holster being carried in one hand, and Inara, wrapped in an Asian styled robe. Upon seeing Kaylee's anger and her face-off with the Doctor, Mal drew his revolver from its holster. "Kaylee, should I be concerned that there are strangers on my boat?"

Kaylee ignored him. "Fix it!" she yelled at the Doctor, anger pouring out of her.

The Doctor unhooked the umbrella from his arm and removed his hat, holding it to his chest. "My dear child, I'll do what I can, but at the risk of being slapped again, I don't know what you are talking about."

Kaylee raised her arm to slap him again, but the Doctor deftly caught it in the hook of his umbrella.

Mal vaulted the railing, landing a few feet from the confrontation. Inara and Simon hurried down the stairs, but stayed back. Mal cocked his gun, levelling it at the Doctor and said, "You'd best let her go."

"You would be the captain, I presume," the Doctor said, releasing Kaylee's arm. "I'm sorry to have upset her, and we'll happily be on our way. We only stopped off to take a few readings, then we'll be gone." He re-hooked the umbrella, on his jacket pocket this time, and offered Mal his hand, ignoring the gun. "I'm the Doctor. Ace, could you show them...?"

Kaylee looked back at Mal, furious, but with eyes watering. She said nothing but instead turned back toward the Doctor.

Ace brandished the device she was holding. A small radar dish turned this way and that, and a series of LEDs along its side flashed randomly. There appeared to be a telephone on a receiver strapped to the side of it. Ace gave her toothiest "I'm innocent" smile.

Mal ignored her and looked to Kaylee instead. "The Doctor?" he asked. "As in, the Doctor?"

"Yes," Kaylee answered impatiently. "It's him."

"I can see my reputation proceeds me," the Doctor said, finally putting his hand down un-shook. "I must request that you keep our previous encounter secret from me as I suspect it hasn't happened yet. Either that or it happened over a cask of Peladonian Wine and was probably more embarrassing than I'd care to remember."

Zoë appeared from the doorway above. "Captain. Something's just come over the wire you should see."

"Soon as I get a free moment Zoë, just now we've got intruders," Mal said without looking up.

"Anyone we know?"

"Not rightly sure yet. Kaylee seems to think it's the Doctor."

"Only one way to know for sure, Captain. Stick him in the galley and see if he can emerge with a soufflé."

Simon pulled on a pair of clear latex gloves. "I think I may have a better way to tell. Zoë, would you fetch River?" He approached the Doctor, pushed Mal's revolver out of his way, and shook his hand. "Hi, I'm Simon, ship's doctor." He walked past the Doctor and extended his hand toward Ace. "Catch him please, Mal," he said over his shoulder.

Ace transferred the device to her other hand and shook Simon's hand. She remembered saying "Ace" and was going to ask what he meant by "catch him", but things got fuzzy after that.


	3. Chapter 3

Somewhere close by, a large explosion went off, startling the Doctor awake. He sat stock upright, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He assessed the situation quickly. Ace was laying within arms reach and had her backpack with her, baseball bat stuffed in the side pocket. The two of them were outdoors, at night. He felt the dirt that he was sitting on. Damp, but not muddy, from a recent rain. There was a strong smell of oxidized magnesium in the air, meaning that the explosion that woke him was apparently commonplace; they should get to cover quickly. There were trees nearby on both sides of them, and a mountain ridge close by to the right.

He poked Ace with the tip of his umbrella. "Ace! Wake up. It's not safe here." A fighter jet flew overhead just then, as if to accentuate the point.

Ace stirred and mumbled, "Professor?"

"Yes Ace, it's me. Please move!" he replied, standing up.

Ace sat up and looked around. "How did we get here professor?"

"I don't know. I suspect we were drugged and transported here," the Doctor said urgently, "but we can figure that out after the bombing run has passed, hmmm?"

That got her attention, and she rolled over, getting to her feet quickly. She bent back down and looped one strap of the backpack over her shoulder, the asked, "Which way?"

The Doctor pointed at the tree line to their right. The trees wouldn't provide much cover from a bombing run, but there could be caves in the side of the mountain nearby. "Run!" he yelled, as in the opposite direction he could see the bomber coming around for another pass.

The two of them ran the fifty or so yards to the edge of the tree line. "Not much cover, but at least we aren't so tempting a target," the Doctor said under his breath. He swung around and clung to a tree trunk, watching the bomber approach as Ace caught her breath at his side.

He could see now that there were several bombers in a line, and they were carpet bombing the area. Explosion after explosion shook the ground as the ships grew closer. Ace took the Doctor by the arm and tugged, but he stood resolute. At the last moment before reaching the tree line, the line of ships pulled up and disappeared into the night's sky overhead. The Doctor's eyes followed them until they were pin pricks against the other stars, then looked back across the barren field they had woken up on.

The trees to the other side were now ablaze, and now that the ships' engine roar had died down, he could hear the sounds of men screaming, and of gunfire. In the distance, far beyond the burning trees, he could see tracer rounds streaming skyward against the dull glow of more distant fires.

Wherever they were, it was in the very heart of a war.

Ace tugged at his arm again, and this time he let her turn him away from the carnage. "Professor," she said, "we can't stay here. They're bound to come back."

"Hmmm," was all he said. Then he licked a finger and stuck it in the air. He turned to his left and pointed. "South, I believe. Toward the mountains. If there aren't any caves, at least we may climb high enough to see a nearby settlement." Then louder, "Come along, Ace," and he headed off, weaving between the trees.

They walked along with only the occasional snapping of a trodden twig to make noise, until a more distant snap made Ace pull up short. "Professor," she whispered loudly. He stopped, and they both listened silently. They could hear movement behind and to the right of them, and voices too low to be made out. "Should we hide?" she asked, but the tell-tale whirr of pulse rifles warming up, told them they were too late.

"Hands in the air!" someone yelled, and several figures in battle armor moved into sight.

The Doctor and Ace raised their hands. "Please," the Doctor called out. "We don't want any trouble. We're unarmed."

"There couldn't be any civilians out here still," called another voice.

Then the first one spoke again as the group encircled them. "On your knees!"

Ace asked frantically, "Professor, what should I do?"

"Just do as they tell you, Ace," he said urgently, getting on his knees and lacing his fingers behind his head.

The one giving commands came around in front of them with the muzzle of his rifle directly in the Doctor's face. "Are you Alliance or Independents?"

The Doctor smiled for the briefest of moments before answering. "I can honestly say..." he said, looking at the soldier's insignia, "Corporal, we are as independent as they come."

"Uh, huh," the corporal responded. "Cuff them. They're coming with us until we can verify their identity."

Cuffs were quickly slapped on the Doctor's wrists, then on Ace's. They were lifted to their feet, then pushed ahead of the soldiers. They made a good pace and the ground they were walking on soon turned rocky.

"Look at that Ace, we're heading in the same direction anyway, only now we have strength of numbers," the Doctor said.

"Yeah," Ace replied sarcastically. "I feel so much safer now."

They marched on for a short ways with the Doctor actually seeming to enjoy himself until he heard a sound that made him stop. He turned around and looked up. "Another bombing run!" he yelled.

"There's a cave ahead! We can make it if we run!" the Corporal shouted.

"That's just the point!" the Doctor retorted. "Can't you see they are funneling us there?"

"Doesn't matter, it's the only safe place from the bombing!"

"No!" he yelled. "We have to turn and run the other way. Toward the bombers!" The Doctor put his hands around in front of him. He had removed the handcuffs.

"How do we survive the bombs that direction?" said another soldier. The Doctor quickly scanned his armor for insignia.

"We take out the bomb before it reaches the ground, Sergeant, and run underneath." He turned to Ace. "Ace, did you bring any nitro-9 canisters with you?"

"No," Ace replied.

"No, meaning yes?" the Doctor clarified as he approached her.

"Yes," she said and turned around so the Doctor could access her backpack.

The Doctor unzipped it and rummaged around for a moment until his hand closed over a metallic cylinder which he quickly withdrew. "I need an accurate timer this time. Two seconds, no more. This is important, Ace."

"Got it, Professor. I've been working on it," she responded. "Turn the top, two clicks to the right is two seconds."

"Whatever you're doing, you'd best be quick," the sergeant said urgently.

"Tell your men to run on my command, Sergeant." The Doctor turned toward the sound of the explosions. He felt the ground tremble as they got closer. He stood resolute until he saw the sky brighten from a very close explosion. "Run, Sergeant! That way!" He pointed toward the explosion and ran. He twisted the nozzle on Ace's canister, counted one beat and threw it, up and forward.

The squad, the Doctor and Ace ran at full speed for the next second and a half, then there was a tremendous explosion, much larger than the others and directly overhead. It threw them to the ground and set the trees above them on fire. Their ears rang and their skin buzzed, but no one was injured.

The sergeant recovered first and stood up, yelling orders that no one could quite hear. There was another explosion behind them, then the line of bombers banked skyward again.

The Doctor stood up and helped Ace to her feet. The sergeant's squad formed up around him. The Doctor put a hand on the sergeant's shoulder, then a finger to his lips. He pointed to the left and up, just outside the tree line. A dropship came down just above the ground, and paracord ropes lowered the rest of the way. A squad of soldiers rappelled to the ground, and the dropship took off again. Some orders were shouted and the squad ran straight for the cave ahead. They took up positions and shouldered rifles, then two squad members moved forward and lobbed grenades into the cave. There was a bright flash and dust exploded from the mouth of the cave.

"That would have been us, Sergeant," the Doctor said, handing Ace's handcuffs over to him.

"Much obliged. I never did catch your name."

"I'm the Doctor," he replied, tipping his hat, "and this is my companion -"

Another voice called out, "We have you surrounded!" A group of soldiers in black as opposed to the Independent brown entered the area, weapons trained on them.

A captain stepped forward with a cocky expression and surveyed the group. He shook his head and smiled. "We don't need any prisoners," he said, and walked back out. "Private?"

One of the soldiers stepped forward and pointed a gun at the sergeant. His finger tightened on the trigger.

"Wait!" the Doctor yelled, stepping in front of the sergeant. "You don't have to do this!"

The private fired.

The bolt hit the Doctor full in the chest and he fell silently backward. His hat fell to the ground. The sergeant caught him and eased him to the ground. The Doctor coughed once, blood spraying from his lips. "Medic!" the sergeant called out.

Another soldier approached and knelt beside him. So far, the Alliance soldiers held off firing any further. The Doctor shook his head and pushed away weakly at both the sergeant and the medic. "No," he whispered, which caused a coughing fit and more blood. "No," he said again with greater strength, "stand back. I'm going to regenerate now. Please, stand back."

"Professor!" Ace cried out and ran to his side.

The Doctor smiled weakly. "You too, dear Ace. Stand back," he coughed again and started to glow lightly. He lifted his hands up to his face.

The sergeant stood up and removed his helmet. It was the captain from the ship they had been on. "No one's regenerating today, Doctor," he said. Then he looked to the medic. "Doc, can you bring him out of it?"

The Doctor put his arms back down, but the glow remained in front of his eyes. The stars began to fade and the glow coalesced into a single round point; a bare bulb above him. The sergeant's uniform faded away as well, replaced by a maroon shirt and braces.

The medic's uniform faded as well, and the trees around them were replaced with cargo crates. The sounds of distant explosions were replaced with the hum of a ships engine which the Doctor could now feel thrumming through his body. The medic, whom the Doctor now recognized as the man who had introduced himself as Simon said, "They're coming out of it on their own." He looked down at the Doctor and said, "I'm going to see to your companion now. You're safe. You'll be fine in a moment."

"Doctor," said the Captain, "welcome back aboard Serenity."


	4. Chapter 4

Simon shone a light in the Doctor's eyes, but he waved him off. "See to Ace. I'll be fine." Simon nodded and scooted over to Ace, who was propped up on her elbows and looking around with a stunned expression.

"What did you do to me?" Ace asked as Simon shone the penlight in her eyes and flicked it away.

Simon held her mouth open and shone the light at her tongue. "I'm sorry about that. The gloves I was wearing were covered with a crystalline powder that gets absorbed through the skin. It briefly knocks you out, then induces a highly suggestable state."

"Why are you wearing that?" she asked, still in a daze.

Simon looked down self-consciously at the flak jacket he was wearing. He pulled it off over his head and set it down on the floor next to them. "Props. Like the helmet the captain was wearing, and these potted plants that served as our forest." He indicated a couple of fichus plants that Ace hadn't noticed previously. "My sister is a psychic, and she was able to add other elements in to make it more believable. Then Mal just told you a narrative, and your own minds did the rest." He put an arm on her shoulder and said more quietly, "You'll be okay now. There are no lasting effects, though you may find yourself agreeing to things more easily for the next half hour or so."

Ace seemed to be coming out of it pretty well, because she went from stunned to offended. She shrugged off Simon's hand and said, "I don't understand. What was the point of this... this deception? No, this invasion!"

Simon looked very uncomfortable and it took a while before he spoke, but when he finally opened his mouth, Mal beat him to it. "First off, you've got no high horse here, so step down. You came 'board my ship unannounced and unpermitted. You're lucky you weren't shot. Or jettisoned. Now, we've got history with the Doctor, that's a fact. But he don't look like the man we knew, and we'd no reason to believe him at his say so. And Doctor, you've had facial reconstruction the likes of which the doctor -" Mal corrected himself, "- Doctor Tam has never seen. We took you on at Kaylee's vouchsafe, but we needed more proof before we were gonna trust you."

Mal, calmed himself a bit before he spoke again. "Now we've had some run-ins with bounty hunters and the like. We've got a habit of tweakin' the nose of some high-up folks what need it. And we've come across some folks who weren't who they claimed to be, meaning all sorts of mischief. Trust don't come easy anymore. If it ever did.

"You should thank Doctor Tam, since he came up with this solution. My version involves tying you to a chair and getting my knuckles bloody."

The Doctor got to his feet and dusted off his hands. He looked around for his umbrella, and upon spying it, he bends down to pick it up. When he turned back around, he found Kaylee standing face-to-face with him. "Now that we're done wasting time, you can get back in that box of yours, and go save Book and Wash!"

"Book and Wash?" the Doctor asks, his eyebrows knitted with mixed confusion and concern.

"Kaylee," Inara said sympathetically, "they're dead, mei-mei."

"I've seen him do it anyway!" Kaylee yelled. She turned and stormed over to the Tardis, giving the door a powerful kick. "This ain't just some box he's got, it's a time machine. Bigger on the inside." She turned and pointed back at the Doctor. "And he works miracles. I'm not even sure what exactly happened before, but people died, and he did something - a temporal paradox thing," she said, waving her hands around frantically, "and then they weren't dead. He can do it! He can still save them!"

"But I can't," the Doctor started, and Kaylee's expression hardened. She stormed back over to him, arm raised, clearly intending to slap him again.

The Doctor backed up a step and raised his hands defensively. "I can't," he said more firmly.

Kaylee held herself back, and even lowered her hand, but her face remained hard. "Wash was a good man." She pointed at Zoë and a tear fell from her overflowing eyes. "And his child is going to grow up without a father unless you _do_ something about it!"

Zoë coughed. "Perhaps this is a good time to remind you there's something important to attend to on the bridge?" She looked at Kaylee meaningfully, then at the Doctor. "Wouldn't hurt for the Doctor to take a look either."

* * *

A couple uncomfortable minutes later they were crowded into the bridge. Zoë was seated in the pilot's chair. "It was a pri one broad wave," she said, "Near as I can tell the whole 'verse got this one." She flipped a switch and swung a monitor out where they could all view it, then she hit a button and a vid started.

"All Points Lookout," flashed on the screen in big bold letters. "Dangerous Terrorists," was next, then there was a shot of the Doctor they had previously met, running down a corridor with an intent look in his eyes, and a vicious looking pistol in his hand. More flashing words came up, "Armed and Dangerous," followed by a shot of River dodging around a corner with a dangerous blankness to her eyes. The camera zoomed in and froze on blood dripping from one of the two blades she carried. Then flashed again, "Do Not Apprehend."

Zoë was shown next, from the front. She fired once, briefly lit by the muzzle flash. Impassionate, uncaring. Blood spattered across her face as she fired again. The vid showed a split screen, the body of a woman on the left with her chest exploded, and her military photo on the right with her name, rank and age. Addison McCauley, Captain, 38. There followed several more. A young man with dark hair laying against a ship's wall with a clean slice extending from his right hip to his left shoulder, and a second cut across his neck. Mahdu Patel, Navigator, 22. A black man with a bullet hole dead center in his forehead. Alond Toussant, Ensign, 27. And so on. "54 Crew and 23 Civilians," flashed on next, then a single word, in huge letters. "MURDERED."

"None of that happened," Zoë said, tapping the screen. "We killed only Reavers, in self-defense. And the Doctor didn't even carry a gun." There were several nods.

The one word stayed on screen a beat or two longer than the previous slides. Finally it was replaced by text scrolling across the screen. "200,000 credit reward for information leading to their live capture. No Questions Asked."

Mal let out a whistle. "Sure hope Jayne don't see that. That kind of money might cause him to seek a reunion. Be awkward, having to kill him." He was silent for a few moments, then spoke again. "Hell, I'm considering turning us in."

A close-up still from the video of Zoë's face now filled the left side, while a full 360 degree hologram of her head spun on the left with name and age displayed. After a few moments, it was replaced with one of River, and finally the Doctor.

River looked at the Doctor and pointed at the screen. "That's -" she began.

"I know," the Doctor replied quietly, with a rather serious expression. "I'd recognize him - or rather, myself, anywhere." He leaned in close to the screen and tapped at the slight wattle under his chin with the back of two fingers. "Handsome devil, if I do say so myself."

The Doctor straightened and spoke with volume and authority. "Well Ace, it looks like my older self has made a mess and entirely failed to clean up after. Typical. It'll be up to you and me." He turned to Kaylee and gave her a deep look. "Young lady, I didn't catch your name."

For some reason, she didn't want him calling her Kaylee, so she said, "Kaywinnet Lee Frye," and caught herself. She just realized that's what the Doctor called her at the end, last time. She suddenly understood how he had known her full name.

"Ms. Frye, I wonder if we could speak in private," he said, taking her by the arm and heading for the door. Ace made to follow them, but the Doctor turned. "No, Ace. I need you to stay here and get caught up on the situation. We are badly ill-informed, and I'm trusting you to tell me no more than I need to know." Without waiting for a response, he left the bridge with Kaylee in tow.

"Man does like to give orders on another man's boat, don't he?" Mal asked.

"Too right," Ace replied, watching the empty doorway he just left through. "Funny thing is how often you find yourself following them."

* * *

"Ms. Fry," the Doctor started when they were alone in the corridor, "by now you know that the Doctor you knew is my older self. I understand that you've had adventures together, but for me none of that has happened yet. Time travel can be like that sometimes. What you must understand is that the less I know about my own future, the better."

"But what if you're wrong? What if telling you about it now keeps people from dying?"

"My dear, a thousand things could go wrong, don't you see? The steps I take to avoid these deaths could end up causing them instead. Or worse. And that's another thing. I don't know what future calamity could damage me so badly that I would disregard the laws of time and bring back the dead, but let me assure you that ** _I_** won't be doing so. Alright? Let's hear no more of this. If my older self has brought you aboard as a companion you must be quite a capable young lady, and I would be glad of your help in sorting out our current situation. Let's not fight about what could have been and focus instead on resolving this problem, hmm?"

"Then that's it," Kaylee said, throwing her hands in the air and walking away. When she turned around again, her face was a grimace of pain. "That's really it." She swallowed hard. "The rest of them, they didn't understand how I could be so strong when Wash died. It wasn't like me, they said. But they didn't know 'bout you. Wash and Book weren't really dead to me as long as you could come back. But now you're here, and they're gone for reals." She blinked several times, then wiped one hand angrily down the side of her face. "But I am not going to cry!" She pointed a finger at him, daring him to say otherwise. "We are going to go back in there, and we are going to fix this!" She punctuated this by tapping on the Doctor's chest. "Are you with me?"

The Doctor smiled. "To the ends of the Earth, my dear."

"Wǒ de tiān a," Kaylee said impatiently. "Don't even talk to me about the Earth." With that, she turned and walked back toward the bridge.

* * *

"But even if I accept the time travel thing," Simon was saying to Ace, "and that's a pretty big if, you can't convince me that this Doctor here is younger than the Doctor we previously met."

"Yeah," Ace responded, "I've never seen it myself, but once when he thought he was going to die he explained it to me. You and me and all, when we die, we just die. But when a Time Lord, that's the Doctor's species, right? When they die, their body and personality changes, and what body they end up with is anybody's guess. Younger, older, male, female. He's even suggested that he might not look human next time, but I think he may have been having me on."

Just then the Doctor and Kaylee walked in. From his demeanor it seemed that he must have heard what they were talking about. "Appearances can be deceiving, my dear doctor. I dare say I look younger than my 961 years, and I'd further wager that my older self is quite a bit older than that." He hooked his umbrella over the back of a chair and balanced his hat on it. "Now Captain, what is the plan?" he asked, turning to Mal.

"We lay low," Mal replied, prepared for the question. "Core worlds are out and the Kalidasa system is probably none too friendly since that's where they got these vids. If they are looking for us, they'll look there. We'll head for the Blue Sun. We still have some friends on Deadwood." He paused, looking around at the gathered crew.

Kaylee drew in breath through her teeth, the rest of the crew were silent. They hadn't been back to Deadwood since Shepherd Book died on its moon, Haven.

Mal continued, "We find out what we can and we get some supplies. After that we hide in the Uroborus asteroids until we come up with our next steps. Even if someone figures out we're there, it'll make us hard to find."

"Hmmm," said the Doctor deep in thought with his left hand holding the elbow of his right arm, and his right fist held up to his lower lip.

"What is it, Doctor? Do you have a better plan?" Mal asked.

"No," the Doctor responded without changing position or looking up. "Gathering information should be our first priority. But we can't hide out for long. The Alliance won't let this blow over. We will be hunted until we are either caught or killed."

"You mistake my meaning, Doctor," Mal responded. "I've no intention to stay hidden from them. The plan is to pick the time, and with luck, the person what finds us. By that time, I intend to have an advantage." He looks across the room to Zoë, and the two share a nod. "River, lay in a course for Deadwood."


	5. Chapter 5

The Doctor and Ace spent their days with the rest of the crew, but their nights inside the Tardis. Kaylee insisted on staying there as well, just to make sure the Doctor didn't leave. However, the night before they reached Deadwood, the Doctor was alone in the console room with external sensors on and he heard the sound of someone sobbing. He cautiously stepped outside the Tardis and listened for the source. He followed it up the stairs and listened again. When he heard it, he continued on toward the crew's quarters, but as he was passing the doctor's exam room, he heard voices and stopped to investigate.

"They leak, Simon," River was saying through tears. She was in the exam chair, and looked to be in anguish, holding one fist to her temple. "Everybody leaks! And I don't have any more room! I'm still *in* here, and some of me might spill!" She began crying again, but this wasn't the sobbing that had originally piqued the Doctor's curiosity.

Simon was preparing a syringe. He kept making shushing noises, and occasionally he'd say, "It's okay River," or, "I'm right here River," or "This'll make them all stay out."

The Doctor stood in the doorway watching as Simon finally finished with the syringe and approached River. "Okay River, I'm ready. Give me your arm," he said.

River's arm shot out as she grabbed Simon's arm, narrowly missing knocking the syringe from his hand. She sat up with a desperate intensity in her eyes and said, "But the Doctor doesn't just leak, he floods!" Then she settled back and her arm went slack.

Simon caught her arm and shushed again.

The Doctor stepped into the room. "Apologies for intruding, doctor. What, may I ask, is in that syringe?"

Simon looked up, startled by the voice, but to his credit, his hands remained steady. When he saw who it was, he went back to administering the injection. "It's a cocktail actually. Gababitrinol, Phamagaptine and Propolinine. The first is a mood stabilizer, the second reduces neural activity - it was manufactured originally as a treatment for Parkinson's, and the third-"

"Helps to repair synaptic damage," finished the Doctor. "I'm familiar. Tell me, aren't you worried about Gababitrinol's addictive nature?"

Simon was surprised again. Having finished, he withdrew the syringe and placed a cotton pad on River's inner elbow, then folded her arm upward. She held it with her other hand. "I thought you were some other sort of Doctor. I didn't realize you were a medical professional."

"I'm not really a professional anything, more of an... incorrigible dabbler," the Doctor responded as he walked around the room examining other medical vials before setting them back.

Simon watched him intently for a moment before answering. "You are correct, Gababitrinol can become addictive, but at this point in River's treatment she can't always control her urges without it. The benefits far outweigh the consequences, and I have a theory that Propolinine helps to mitigate the addictive qualities."

The Doctor nodded and gave a non-committal "hmmm" as he placed a stethoscope in his ears and first listened to one side of his chest and then the other before returning the stethoscope to the counter.

"River has come a long way. I used to have to sedate her to get any of this done, and she would be out of it for most of the day." Simon returned with an adhesive strip that he placed over the cotton pad on River's arm. "The cocktail I invented is a result of examining a neuro-image I managed to acquire a while back. If you could see the damage the Alliance butchers did to River's brain in the pursuit of a 'psychic assassin'..." Simon let the sentence trail off as he brushed the hair out of River's face and dried the tears from her cheek. He looked down at her with clear brotherly love.

She looked back up at him and said quietly, "All better, gēge. Everyone's back in their own head."

Simon patted her shoulder and smiled, then he turned back to the Doctor. "I'm sorry if we woke you. And please don't be offended by what River said of you."

"Oh, I wasn't offended," the Doctor responded genuinely. "And you didn't wake me either. I heard someone sobbing before I ran across you two, and I was looking for the source to see if I could help."

Simon stiffened and his eyes darted toward the door. He took the Doctor by the arm and led him toward the back of the small room. "That was Zoë," Simon said in hushed tones. "She cries herself to sleep most nights, but she denies it whenever she's pressed about it." He let go of the Doctor's arm and leaned back against the counter that extends around three of the four walls. He sighed. "She lost her husband, our pilot, in action a few short months ago... and he left her with child. I don't know how anyone can hold up like she does in the isolation she has self-enforced. She seems to think that she's required to be the stony-faced hard-as-nails sort, and she won't let anyone in. I think perhaps Mal could talk to her, but he won't acknowledge that anything's wrong, and he's not the most approachable person himself."

The Doctor nodded again, a sad but thoughtful look on his face as he contemplated a spot half-way across the room. "Hmmm," he said again. Then his countenance changed completely and he brightened. "Thank you Doctor, for solving that mystery." He nodded to River and wished them both a goodnight with a lift of his hat. Then he turned to leave, but stopped in the doorway. "Incidentally, I would be happy to."

"Happy to...?" Simon prodded.

"Why, to look at River's neuro-image, of course. You never know what a second set of eyes might find.

"Ta," he concluded, and left.


	6. Chapter 6

A small ship touched down on the barren landscape. In stark contrast to the grey dusty plain and the sky of nearly the same color, the ship was vibrantly decorated. The underside of the cockpit was painted with a large shark-like toothy mouth, just above that, a pair of angry eyes. The sides of the ship had colorful go-faster stripes, and the landing gear were painted with raptor claws. Hand-writing above the port-side airlock proudly proclaimed it the "S.S. Death Shrike".

The airlock opened, and out stepped four well-armed men. The one in the lead had a distinctive foot-high mohawk spray painted in a rainbow of colors. The man to his left was skinny and short, but with a wild look about him. The one to his right was the opposite, tall and beefy with a steady expression. The man taking up the rear was of medium build, with a hood pulled up obscuring his features, but his bare arms were covered in tribal tattoos. All four wore cheap armor plates covering their shoulder and chest.

They approached the only structures visible to the horizon, a one room shack and an outhouse. Once, the short one started to say something but the one with the mohawk snapped and pointed at him, and he shut up quickly.

Half way there the door to the shack banged open and a figure stepped out. The four men stopped while the figure on the porch lit a match on the door frame then lit a cigar. After a couple smoky puffs, the figure reached back inside the shack and retrieved a large rifle. When it stepped off the porch, they could see it was the man they were looking for. Jayne Cobb, former crew member of Serenity.

Jayne, a tall, well-tanned man with toned muscles, was currently wearing a wife beater and khaki pants with an over shirt tied around his waist. He hefted the rifle up over his right shoulder and walked casually out to meet the quartet. When he was around twenty yards away from them, he stopped and spoke. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" he asked with the cigar sticking out of the side of his mouth.

The man in the lead asked, "Do you recognize me, Jayne Cobb?"

Jayne stood silently a while before answering. "I recognize your ship." There was another pause while the wind gently blew through a chime hanging from the porch. "You used to run jobs for Badger, right?"

"Niska," the man responded.

Jayne nodded. He pulled the cigar out of his mouth and spit off to the side before replacing it. Several moments went by in silence again as the two sides sized each other up.

"My name's Bletsky. Best bounty hunter in the 'verse," the mohawk man finally said.

Jayne turned his head to squint up at the sun for a while, then turned his attention back to Bletsky. "And?"

"We caught wind you and Reynolds parted ways."

Jayne simply said, "A-yep."

"I was wonderin' why?"

Jayne stood silently puffing on the cigar for a while again. He pulled the cigar out of his mouth and spit again. He contemplated the cigar in his hand and said, "Couldn't stand the oxygen-rich environment of a ship." He held up the cigar. "Can't smoke 'board ship."

Bletsky smiled and nodded, though he clearly didn't believe Jayne. It was the best answer he was going to get. "Any idea where I might find Reynolds and his crew?"

Jayne nodded. He scratched an itch between his shoulder blades, then wiped away the sweat that was beginning to collect on his forehead. "I know a few places he might go to ground."

Bletsky put his right hand down on the pommel of one of his holstered twin pistols. Jayne didn't flinch. The squirrely man to the left of Bletsky called out in a nervous voice, "Is Reynolds inside, Jayne? Is he here?"

Bletsky clicked his tongue in impatience, but didn't say anything.

Jayne chuckled wryly. "Ain't nobody here but ma 'n me, Vera and the twins."

Bletsky drew a little half circle in the dirt with one boot. "Who's Vera, Jayne? Way I hear it, your sister's name's Mattie."

Jayne smiled. He had been hoping they'd ask. He put the cigar back in his mouth, then lowered the rifle to drop comfortably into his open left palm. "This here's Vera."

The three men with Bletsky drew their weapons and took a step or two back widening their stance. Bletsky put his arms out, leaving his own pistols holstered. He flashed a smile back at Jayne. "It's cool. We're cool."

The one with the hood slowly lowered his rifle to point at the ground, but the other two remained warily aiming their guns at Jayne.

"The twins, Jayne? You talking 'bout Simon and River? Pay's plenty worthwhile just for the two of them."

This made Jayne laugh. He pulled the stub of the cigar out of his mouth. "Should do your homework. Them two ain't even twins." He dropped the cigar onto the dusty ground at his feet and stubbed it out with the toe of one boot. He looked back up at the group and pursed his lips. He whistled loudly.

The ground opened up on either side of Jayne, and two large machine guns - the sort that might normally be attached to a gun ship - rose instantly out of the holes. They swiveled around to point at the quartet of bounty hunters.

"These are the twins," Jayne said, raising Vera to look down the sights at Bletsky.

Bletsky's men panicked. They ran a few steps in random directions, realized there was no cover, then ran a different way. They pointed their weapons alternatively at Jayne or one of the twins, then back.

Bletsky himself just put his hands in the air. "Come with us, Jayne. Alliance is offering a lot of coin. 200,000 credits."

Jayne lowered his gun. "Yeah?" He seemed to consider it for a moment, then propped the rifle back up on his shoulder. "Come get me when they double it." With that, he turned and walked back toward the shack.

The plain was silent again except for the occasional tinkle of the wind chime, and a slight mechanical whirr as the twins swiveled to track Bletsky's men.

Bletsky watched Jayne all the way back to the shack, debating whether to press his luck. "Come on, boys," he finally said in low dangerous tones, eyes drilling a hole in Jayne's back.

The four of them quickly departed without another word.


	7. Chapter 7

Mal watched from a standing position behind River as she expertly brought Serenity low over the Deadwood landscape. Cattle below huddled together and herded away from the unaccustomed sound of the ship's engine. Mal placed a hand on River's shoulder, then pointed, indicating a landing spot beyond the dull wood-plank buildings of Sioux Town. She gave the barest of nods.

Mal unclipped a ship's radio from where it was stowed above the pilot's seat and pressed the send button. "All hands, prepare for landing. As this may be the last friendly soil we feel beneath our soles, I suggest you all make the most of it. Come dawn, we're aiming to park in the blackest part of the sky." He held the radio in his hand for a few moments but said nothing more before stowing it.

By the time Mal and River made it down to the cargo bay, the rest of the crew, including the Doctor and Ace were there and waiting for them. Mal pressed the button to open the bay doors and extend the ramp, then threw his coat on. He looked around at his crew, but they all stood watching the door slowly descend. Kaylee had a revolver shoved into the tool belt she customarily wore, and he knew that Inara most likely had a few daggers stashed about her person. Zoë had her mare's leg cocked under one arm and a revolver strapped to her left leg. She wore a Stetson and was pulling on a pair of leather gloves. Simon just didn't know how to dress down. You might have thought this was Bellerophon instead of Deadwood, Mal thought. He was in an expensive and intricate three-piece suit with starched collar and well-shined boots. About the only concession he had made to the planet outside was the sunglasses he was now wearing. River wore a flowing dress with a belt cinched at the waist and no shoes. On her belt she wore a machete on one side, and a sabre on the other. The Doctor was dressed in the exact same outfit as Mal first saw him in. In fact, the man never seemed to change clothes. Ace wore a white graphic tee advertising a ska band, jeans and her trademark bomber jacket. She had her backpack thrown over one shoulder and was carrying the largest radio Mal had ever seen, currently playing some improvisational jazz.

There was a horse-drawn cart waiting for them, and a man stood in front of it. His brown leather duster was tucked back as his hands were in his pants pockets. He wore jeans with dusty leather chaps over them. He had a gingham button up shirt with a vest over it. On the left chest pocket of the vest was a brass six-pointed star. He had dirty blonde hair sticking out from under his Stetson and three days worth of beard growth. The man squinted into the afternoon sun as the crew of Serenity walked down the ramp.

"Zoë and Mal," the man said, stepping out to greet them. "Sight for sore eyes. Damn, you haven't changed a bit." He smiled broadly and extended an arm to shake hands with Mal. They clasped forearms and shook hard, then the man pulled Mal into an embrace.

"Come here, Zoë," he added, then pulled her into a hug without letting fully go of Mal.

Mal looked a bit awkward, but maintained a smile until the man finally let go of them. He put a hand on the man's shoulder, then gestured toward the crew. "Danton, you remember Kaylee?" he began. Danton nodded toward her, smiling. "This here is Inara, the lady who shares my bunk."

Inara extended one hand, fingers downward. Danton took it and shook slightly, once. She curtsied as he did so. "Ma'am," he said.

Mal continued introductions. "No doubt you've seen photos of the Tams, this is Simon, and River. Don't believe a thing you've heard." Danton nodded to both of them in turn. "This here is the Doctor, he's travelling with us for a piece, and this is his friend, Ace," he said.

The Doctor tipped his hat, and Danton raised a finger to his in return. Ace gave a brief smile and said, "Hey." Danton smiled and nodded.

Danton stepped back and addressed them all. "Welcome to Sioux Town. Find yourselves a seat in the wagon. Mrs. Danton is airing some pies, and dying to see you."

The crew piled on the back of the wagon, which had bench seating on three sides and a t-gate in the rear. Mal sat up front with Danton, and the two of them talked during the ten minute journey to the Danton homestead. Ace whipped off her backpack and rummaged through it for a suitable tape to play. She settled on Patsy Cline and replaced the jazz tape with the sounds of her soulful country warble.

It took them ten minutes to travel along dirt roads out to the Danton Homestead. It was small, but well maintained, with a veranda surrounding it, and two pies cooling in the gentle breeze of the kitchen window. Smoke rose from a grill on the far side of the house, and Mrs. Danton stood up in the small garden they shared as the wagon approached.

Mrs. Danton wore a traditional colonial dress with lacy cuffs and bodice and a floral ankle-length print, cinched at the waist. She had her blonde hair in a loose bun, with strands falling down around her lovely face. She approached the wagon as her husband jumped off, and she handed him a basket of freshly dug potatoes.

Mrs. Danton welcomed the group to their homestead and apologized for their daughter not being here as well. "She was so excited to meet off-worlders, but you know how it is at that age. Attention spans being what they are, she's currently doing her waiting on a swing by the creek."

Mal stepped down and opened his arms wide, giving Mrs. Danton a huge smile. "Beatrice. How long has it been?"

"About five times as long as you keep saying it will be, but it's good to see you all the same," she said, hugging Mal warmly.

She stepped back and smiled as she surveyed the others. When her eyes met Zoë's, she noticed a mysterious aspect to Zoë's smile. It only took her half a beat to gasp and look down toward Zoë's belly. Zoë's smile erupted on her face and Beatrice rushed at her, hands outstretched to cup her belly.

"Zoë Washburne! We heard about Wash, of course, and there will be time to share a cry later over some oolong, but *this* news never made it out this far! Shame on you, and congratulations, dear." She finally let go of Zoë's stomach and hugged her tightly.

"Thank you Bea," Zoë said, hugging her back. "Circumstances being what they are, we aren't advertising."

They disengaged from the hug, but let the embrace slide down the arms until they were holding hands. Beatrice squeezed Zoë's hands, then let go, turning to the rest. "Good to see you again, Kaylee, and to the rest of you, I now consider you friends. You are welcome in my home anytime, with or without Mal.

The couple led them inside, where three unfinished-wood tables were pushed together and already set for them. Surrounding the tables were a mismatch of chairs, benches and stools. Beatrice directed them to the kitchen sink, where there was a hand-powered water pump and a thick cake of soap. She insisted that they all scrub down to the elbows before eating.

While they each took turns washing up, she took a platter out the back door and returned with it heaped high with smoked beef ribs and brisket. Her husband was just finished peeling the potatoes into a large colander. She handed him the platter and took the colander. She gave the young potatoes a quick rinse, then expertly quartered them, salted them and fried them in lard with some paprika and fresh rosemary.

She brought them to the table and slapped Ace's hand away, insisting that they pray first. Not even Mal complained as she said a quick prayer, then they all dug in. The meal was fantastic, and was punctuated with the conversation of old friends catching up, telling old stories and laughing. The newcomers were reminded of their own stories and recounted those as well. Simon told a story about a time in med school that a couple friends had stolen a medical cadaver, dressed it as the school president and posed it as a passed-out party-goer at a rival's event.

Just then, the couple's daughter, Belle, came inside and was introduced to the crew. She took an immediate liking to the Doctor and sat on his knee, wearing his hat and eating ribs, while the conversation went on.

The Doctor recounted a story of the time a sentient cactus impersonated him and managed to fool a team of guards as well as the local theocracy, stole a religious artifact of great significance and left him to take the blame.

Beatrice got up and retrieved some rolls from the oven. Ace and Zoë begged off eating anymore, but Beatrice reminded Zoë that she was 'eating for two' now, and put one on her plate anyway.

Kaylee couldn't resist telling the Dantons about the time Mal got married without even realizing it, then how his wife pretty much took over the ship and nearly got them all killed. Despite his initial embarrassment, maybe because of the way she told it, or maybe just because it had been enough time and this was the right company, even Mal laughed.

The sun had gone down by this point, and Beatrice served the pies. Suddenly everyone seemed to have enough room again. The group ate dessert without talking, and Ace took this as her cue to play some music. She dug out a tape of Irish folk music that felt appropriate to the moment. The melodies sounded familiar to most of them, though the arrangements had changed quite a bit in the 800 years or so since Ace's tape had been recorded.

Belle insisted on dancing with each of the males present, and River stood up over by the wall, swaying with the music, and shifting her skirt from side to side to the rhythm. After a few dances, Beatrice sent Belle to bed.

Sheriff Danton pulled an old bottle from a cabinet over the sink and several small glasses. He announced it as this region's finest whiskey, aged 12 years in the barrel, plus another three in his cabinet. He offered a glass to everyone, and Mal, the Doctor and Inara accepted. At this point, the conversation grew darker, and they spoke about their current predicament.

"...so we're going to need terminal access if we're going to learn anything about who's after us," Mal finished.

"Well, I have a hardline in the cellar, and you're free to use it, but won't that lead the Alliance straight to you?" Danton asked.

Zoë spoke up, "Mr. Universe may be gone, but his network isn't. We'll be using his routers. And if the Alliance can trace through them to us, they deserve to catch us."

Danton nodded. He slugged back the remainder of his whiskey and swallowed hard. He stood up and placed his glass on the kitchen counter, then returned to the table. He moved his chair out of the way, then dragged the heavy table noisily aside. There was a small ring in the floor, which he pulled on. The surrounding floorboards lifted, revealing a wide opening and stairs leading down into a dark cellar. He gestured with one arm toward the opening.

"If I may?" the Doctor offered.

"I was hoping you might," replied Mal.

The two of them descended the stairs. A single bare bulb came on automatically, and they could see what turned out to be a multi-purpose room. There were sealed barrels along the sides of the stairs, and crates containing root vegetables against the bare-earth wall. There were some sturdy floor-to-ceiling shelves running down the center of the room containing rows of jarred preserves, and beyond them, there were a pair of saw horses with a saddle laying across them. There were both leatherworking and woodworking tools hanging from a peg board on the wall beyond that. Cords of wood were stacked nearby.

In the far corner, away from everything else stood a pedestal with a canvas tarp draped over it. Mal and the Doctor approached tentatively. Mal slowly tugged on one corner of the tarp, and the whole thing slid away revealing a full, modern net tap, like one might see on a core world, ready for input. Mal let out visible signs of relief. "I half expected a typewriter", he confided.

The Doctor's fingers flew over the keys, and soon he had hacked the routing options. Mal fed him the address and credentials to use, and the Doctor was off and running.

"Captain," the Doctor said over his shoulder without missing a keystroke. "You are going to say that this isn't my place to say, but hear me out. I think this is the sort of thing you have to hear from someone you aren't close to."

Mal gave a warning expression, but said nothing.

"I heard Zoë last night."

Mal opened his mouth to speak, but the Doctor cut him off by raising a hand. His other hand continued to fly across both sides of the keyboard. "I didn't speak to her, but you should know the rest of the crew has, and she denies everything. They are all concerned for her. She's never had a chance to grieve - moving from one emergency situation to another - and she's dying inside."

Mal spoke up over the Doctor's warning finger. "Zoë's a grown woman, full capable of making her own decisions -"

"But that's just the point," the Doctor interrupted. "She made a decision a long time ago to follow you come hell or high water, and that has informed every decision she's made since then. Tell me one time she's gone against one of your orders." He paused just long enough that Mal was about to retort, then in an entirely different tone of voice, said, "Sorry, is there a way to print from this thing?"

Mal closed his mouth, taken by surprise, then pointed at one side of the keyboard and said, "You have to hold that key down and press this one here."

"Ah!" said the Doctor, following his instructions, then switching screens and performing another search. He continued lecturing Mal, "She has thrown herself into her work, and even craves the distraction, believing her feelings will dull over time and she can deal with them later. But it's not working, is it? Hmm?" he asked, pausing his typing to look Mal in the eye.

"No, but -" Mal started, but the Doctor turned and started typing again.

"Right now Zoë is incapable of making a decision that puts her own best interest first. She has always deferred to you, _Sergeant_ ," the Doctor said pointedly, "and she isn't going to change that until you talk to her. Even when you do, she will play tough and deny her pain. You must force her to take some time for herself, for her own good."

The two stood in silence for a while as the Doctor printed out more pages.

"You're right, Doctor," Mal finally said when the printer was silent. Then his face hardened. "It isn't your place to say." Mal ripped the pages from the printer and walked back toward the stairs.

The Doctor stood by the terminal alone. He removed his hat and turned it several times in both hands, a worried expression on his face. Then he logged off the terminal, replaced the canvas and followed Mal up the stairs.

* * *

When Mal reached the kitchen area again, he looked around. He saw Zoë and Beatrice had pulled a couple of chairs over to a corner of the room and were talking quietly with a kettle of tea sitting on a stool between them. He looked accusingly at the rest of his crew, sitting and talking with Ace around the remaining tables in the center of the room. He looked back toward the Doctor as he ascended the stairs and closed the trapdoor. It disappeared into the grain of the floor with only a recessed iron ring to mark its location. Then Mal picked up a chair and a lantern and stalked off to the opposite corner to read.

Kaylee leaned in close to Inara and whispered, "Did you see that look? I think Mal and the Doctor had words."

Inara wore a worried look, but only motioned with her eyes as the Doctor approached the table. The Doctor raised his hat to them all and took a seat next to Simon.

Simon said, "Whatever you said down there, you seem to have struck a nerve with the captain."

"Hmm?" the Doctor said absently. "Oh, he'll be fine. I just gave him a thing or two to think about." He inclined his head toward Zoë.

Simon nodded understanding.

Inara changed the subject. "Did you find out anything more about the reward video?"

"Oh yes. Quite a bit more. We know who sent it out and where they are now. We've got their history and hobbies, as well as some of the seedier sides of things. Given the limited resources at our disposal, your captain is coming up with a plan as we speak." The Doctor gestured over at Mal.

Mal was now sitting in the corner, actively reading a report. He held the paper in his right hand and scanned down the page with the index finger of his left while holding the previously read pages between the thumb and palm of his left hand. He seemed excited about what he was reading. He punched the page with his index finger, then sorted back through the pages in his left hand. He found the paragraph he wanted, re-read it, and said to himself, "Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze duh ur-tze!"

He stood up and called out loudly, "Listen up everyone. I have a plan." He held up the papers and approached the table where his crew was sitting. He tossed the papers onto the table and leaned on it, hands splayed. "We've got an Operative on our tail. Those of you been on my crew a piece remember the last one we met, but I'll run down the basics for you: They are fanatical and extremely well trained. Best martial fighters in the verse. Apparently they disavow their names in the program, they're all just called Operative. This one's been on our tail since we defeated the last guy. Some sort of vendetta. There is no way any of us could take him in a fair fight, even two on one. So we won't fight fair."

He looked around at the crew. Kaylee looked scared and Inara concerned, but nobody said anything. He went on. "Last six months he hasn't caught up to us, so he's recruited the top Alliance inquisitor, an Admiral Steadman. He has a reputation for always getting his man, and stopping at nothing to do so. He commands a space station currently in orbit around Meridian. Tells you how close he is to us already. The Doctor checked the deep net to see what his crew has to say about him. They don't. It's not highly publicized, but every few years he gets an entirely new crew. None of his old crew are ever heard from again.

"Even further buried is some elective surgery he had. Looks like the reason he's so good at what he does is that the Alliance doesn't have to lie to him. They can tell him every detail on a given case, he's got just the kind of brain that pieces it all together, then the Alliance can hook up a computer to him and just rip out all the memories they don't want him to have. Reading between the lines here, his crew ain't so lucky." Mal paused again to let that sink in.

"Six months this Operative's been looking for us, and we don't even know he's there. First day on the job and Steadman puts out that vid. Few days later he's orbiting the planet next-door to us. This man is smart, maybe River smart. We're going to outsmart him."

Mal turned a chair around and straddled it. He leaned in close, and the group listened to and discussed his plan.

After it had all settled in, Danton stood up, put on his hat, and picked up his coat. His wife stood up and said, "You're not going out again - not when we have guests?"

"Bea, you know Jimmy Caufield is sitting in my jail right now, and I need to feed him and empty his pot. I also have to make sure the Jensen boys don't string him up while I'm out, hmm?" He put a couple ribs and some potatoes on a plate, then went into the kitchen to grab a napkin. Beatrice cut a slice of pie in half and put that on the plate as well. Danton returned with the napkin and saw what his wife had done. He smiled and pulled her into a hug, kissing her on the forehead. He covered the plate with the napkin and said, "I'll be back before sunup," and left.

Beatrice sighed. "I only have a couple camp beds. Zoë, you can take my bed, I'll stay with Belle tonight. The rest of you will have to sleep on the floor. I'll get some blankets."

* * *

Most of the crew didn't sleep well. It wasn't that the hardwood floor was too uncomfortable, it was thoughts of the upcoming action that was keeping them up. Mal and Inara got the camp beds, and while Mal slept fine, Inara lay still and worried. Both Ace and Kaylee eventually fell asleep, though worry kept them up initially, and the Doctor snored loudly most of the night. Neither Simon nor River slept at all. Simon tossed and turned, and River eventually got up, pulled a chair and blanket to the door, and sat with her back propped against it and her machete across her lap.

Dawn came early on the dusty plain, and true to his word, Danton arrived just before it. His wife got up when she heard his horse, and she briefly entered the common room dressed much as the day before, before disappearing outside through the back.

Kaylee was the first to get up, and she carried her blanket with her as she picked up the kettle from last night and brought it to the kitchen. She pumped some water into it, rinsed it, then filled it again. She popped it on the stove, then opened a door on the front of the stove. She took a couple pieces of wood from a box next to the stove and put them inside, cross-wise. She lit a long wooden match on the side of the stove, then held it to the wood until it caught fire. She left the match inside and closed the door then went and sat on a chair, laying her head on the table.

When Beatrice re-emerged from the backyard, she was holding her apron up. She pulled a wooden bowl out from a cupboard under the sink and, one-by-one, placed two dozen eggs in it. She rinsed them off, then turned to the stove. She saw that it was already on, but added a couple more chunks of wood to the fire. She turned and thanked Kaylee, who smiled and raised one hand in acknowledgment.

Beatrice sent her husband into the basement after a flitch of bacon. She broke several eggs directly on the stovetop when she determined it was hot enough, popped the yolks and began a scramble. Danton returned and set to slicing the flitch into thin rashers. Soon the house smelled of breakfast, and Belle came out to join the group. With her arrival, the group started getting up and clearing the blankets and stacked the camp beds by the wall. Kaylee picked up the boiling kettle with a doubled over towel and made tea.

The group spent what would be their last decent meal in some time mostly by complementing the cook, and talking about the simple farm life. The Doctor entertained Belle with some slight of hand while Ace and Kaylee helped Beatrice clean up and the rest did a weapons check and started packing.

Mal took stock of the staple items they'd be taking with them. "Zoë?" he called.

"Captain?" she responded, looking up from the crates she was stacking.

"There's a crate of salted meats in the cellar, would you bring that up for me?" he asked.

"Aye, Captain," she responded, already heading for the stairs.

The moment her head disappeared below ground level and the cellar light went on, Mal dropped what he was doing and ran to the trap door. He shut it tight and dragged the heavy wooden table over the top of it. Zoë immediately started banging on it and cursing Mal.

Kaylee looked at him, confusion on her face. "Cap'n?" she asked.

"Zoë's sitting this one out," Mal said with finality.

"This is not what I meant!" the Doctor said, rising to his full height. "I -"

Suddenly there was a crash at the window. Everyone looked around to see a small metallic sphere bounce twice and roll into the center of the room.

"Flash-bang!" Mal yelled, and raised one arm to shield his eyes while drawing his revolver with the other. There was a sudden blinding light that came from the sphere, accompanied by a series of loud booms and a constant ear-piercing whistle. Even shielded, Mal's eyes were momentarily blinded. He could just make out as if in slow motion a dark silhouette kick down the door and move somewhere into the room, followed by other dark streaks.

By the time the crew could see again, they were surrounded by at least twenty Alliance soldiers in full riot gear. Mal had his revolver pointed at the soldier front and center, Kaylee had her hand on her pistol, but hadn't drawn it, and Ace had her bat half-way slid out of the backpack straps. Danton and his wife both had their hands in the air, as did the Doctor. Belle was holding her hands over her ears and crying. Zoë had stopped banging on the trap door and was currently silent. River had both blades drawn and was holding them crossed at arm's length, as if warding off a vampire.

"Drop your weapons, put your hands in the air!" the lead soldier commanded. Kaylee dropped her pistol on the floor, and Ace let her bat slide back into the backpack. Both raised their hands. Mal spun about, looking for a weak point in the surrounding soldiers. They had come in through the back door as well, and left no section uncovered.

The Operative walked in through the front doorway, clasping his hands behind his back. He carefully stepped around the crates that had scattered during the soldier's charge. He was followed by an Alliance Admiral who wore a smug smile as he looked around at his captured prey. "Check, and mate," he said.

"Put the weapons down!" the soldier repeated.

Mal's jaw set, and he turned around, training his gun on Danton.

Danton reached out and grabbed Belle, pulling her close and placing her between Mal and him.

Mal cocked his gun. "You think I won't shoot you because you put your daughter in the way?" he said furiously.

The soldiers all took a step closer to him and there was the sound of a dozen automatic rifle bolts sliding into place.

Mal continued, "You're only half right." He carefully released the hammer on his revolver. "I won't shoot you because I want your daughter to see what becomes of a man who repays his friends like this." Mal set down his gun and placed his hands behind his head.

Two soldiers lowered their rifles and ran behind Mal, one forcing him to his knees while the other cuffed first one hand, then brought it down behind his back and cuffed the other. All the while, Mal maintained a hard stare directly at Danton.

Other soldiers approached the rest of the crew in pairs and started to do the same to each of them.

"No," River said, swinging one blade down in a wide arc while raising the other to a defensive position horizontal with her forehead. "I won't go back." Her lip trembled and her voice broke. "I can't go back, Simon."

A half dozen soldiers took aim at River, but they circled backward, giving River's blades plenty of room. The Operative stepped forward calmly and put a hand on the muzzle of each of the closest soldiers' weapons. He gently pushed them down. "Stand down," he said.

The soldiers lowered their weapons and widened their circle to extend around the Operative and River. They pulled the rest of the crew out of the way and held them by their cuffed hands. The Operative drew the katana from its scabbard over his shoulder. He held it two-handed, in a classic Bushido seigan no kamae pose. The two circled silently.

River blinked. In the timeless instant that River had her eyes closed, she saw the fight as it would progress. There was a tiny drop of sweat on the Operative's brow. The tip of his sword was describing an ellipse that favored the upper right. She touched his mind and confirmed his intentions. He would make a tentative thrust toward her left leg, easily turned away, then turn and swipe hard to her upper right. She'd bring up both blades to block, then bend backward under this stroke, guiding the katana away and slashing at the back of his sword arm with her sabre, weakening him. He would be quick to react, and a thousand options were available to him at this point, but the upper hand would be hers.

River's eyes opened back up just as the Operative made his move. She moved to parry his thrust, crouching down and to the right as the flat of the Operative's blade caught her hard on the right temple. She had a moment of surprise, then blackness overtook her vision and she began to collapse, unconscious.

The crew, who had begun to think River undefeatable were shocked. The Doctor and Ace looked away from the scene. Simon called out, "River!" and started to run toward her, but the soldiers strengthened their grip on his arms and kicked the back of his knees, forcing him to a kneeling position.

River fell to the floor, her blades dropping from her unfeeling grasp.

The Operative re-sheathed his sword and walked away without a change in expression as the Alliance soldiers moved in to swarm River.


	8. Chapter 8

The group was led in cuffs on board the space station that served as the Admiral's home. Special attention was paid to River, whose legs were chained together as well, and her hands weren't just cuffed like the others. Her arms were trussed behind her back in manacles that extend the length of her forearm and were welded together so that her elbows were touching uncomfortably.

Upon entering the station, they passed through a metal detector/ weapon scanner. Inara set it off, and they pulled her aside to remove a pair of small daggers and her hair comb, which was also a throwing blade. They stopped Mal too, but it turned out to be just a series of metal pins from a war wound years ago. Ace was forced to leave her jacket and backpack behind, after which she walked through clean. The Doctor too was not stopped, though he had to leave the umbrella and hat behind.

There were four holding cells, two on either side of a central hallway. Inara, River and Kaylee were pushed into one at the end and the Doctor and Ace were pushed into the one opposite. Mal and Simon were put into the one next to the girls and the one opposite them was left empty.

They were left to stew for a while, during which they talked about what was going to happen to them. River worried that her treatment was wearing off, and the Doctor assured her that he would help. Eventually the Operative showed up with two guards. They opened Simon and Mal's cell and pulled Mal out.

He was lead into the Admiral's office, larger in size than your typical officer's day room. It was decorated sparsely, no artwork to be seen. There was an artificial potted plant in one corner, a holo-monitor covering one wall, and an ornate chess set on a side table next to the Admiral's large desk. The only personal items on the desk itself were a photo of a woman on one corner, and a Newton's pendulum on the other. The Admiral was sitting in a comfortable chair behind the desk, currently turned toward the view of Meridian through the large window on the far wall.

Mal was forced to sit in a bare metal chair placed in front of the Admiral's desk. His cuffs were attached via chain to a ring in the deck before the guards stepped outside the room.

"This isn't the first time you've upset the Alliance," the Admiral commented without turning around.

"Everybody needs a hobby."

The Admiral spun in his chair. "Tell me, what's in it for you? You don't really think you are going to set up some sort of new Independence movement, do you? Why risk your life for the Tams?"

"The Tams are good people, just trying to get by in life, without persecution. Funny, but it strikes a chord with me. 'Sides, I often find myself needing the services of a good doctor, and Dr. Tam is the finest there is. Actually helps that he's on the run from you lot. A ship like Serenity don't usually rate a doctor. Leastways not one with any real training."

"While all that may be true, you've seen lean times. I'd say you are _in_ lean times. The bounty must have looked awfully tempting."

"Guess I shouldn't be surprised that a man who survives the regular extermination of his crew wouldn't know much about loyalty. They're on my crew. I protect them. There's nothing more to it."

" _My loyalty_ ," the Admiral said, pressing his fingertips against the surface of the desk, temper rising, "is to the Alliance." He visibly calmed himself. "It is also not the subject. I want to know about _you_."

"Nothing much to me. I'm a peaceable guy. I'll work with people I hate if they honor their side of the deal. You leave me be, I'll treat you just fine. You get in my way, we'll have words. You persist in your foolishness, we'll have a disagreement."

"Actually, I think you are one of the most dangerous men alive, Mr. Reynolds," said the Operative. The Admiral sat back in his chair, ceding the floor to the Operative. "The Operative you faced before, he was well trained. He would never let emotion come between him and his mission. He could not be persuaded, he could not be bargained with, convinced or bribed. He would focus on his mission until completion and nothing short of his own death would prevent him from succeeding. I know all this because I trained him. When you faced him, you were effectively facing me. And somehow, something you said or did _changed_ him. He switched sides that day and has left the Alliance, incommunicado. I need to understand how that could happen. I want you, Mr. Reynolds, to change me. Or at least to try."

"Uncuff me, and I will show you a whole new world."

"If you are trying to bait me, that will not work. And in case you had too inflated an idea of self, the Alliance isn't interested in you at all. If I were to uncuff you and cut you down, no one would bat an eye."

Mal stood as well as the cuffs would allow and faced the Operative more or less eye-to-eye. "And in case your sense of self is too inflated, I've already faced you once, as you say, 'effectively'. You taught your man everything you know. He pulled the same mojo on me that you did on River back on Deadwood, but when it came down to a fight, mano a mano, I straight-up beat him." There was silence between them for several moments.

"Sit down, Mr. Reynolds," the Admiral finally said. When he finally did so, the Admiral said, "I have one final question: Where is Zoë Washburne?"

Mal's response was immediate and conversational. "We parted company some time ago. She hasn't been the same since her husband died, and frankly I didn't want to have her around." The Admiral looked down at a screen embedded in his desk. He frowned slightly and looked back up at Mal. "She could be anywhere by now," Mal finished, straight-faced and innocent.

* * *

They returned Mal to his cell and pulled out Kaylee. Kaylee was taken up to the office and chained to the floor in the same way as Mal had been. "Do you play chess, Ms. Frye?" the Admiral asked.

Kaylee was taken aback by the question. "Distance between stars leaves time to play lots of games. Was never very good at it though."

The Admiral nodded. "To be any good at the game, you have to understand what all the pieces do. How they move, how they capture. Even the lowly pawn, if ignored, can come back to bite you as a queen." He got up from behind his desk. He took a moment to look out the window at Meridian spinning above them, then he came around the front of his desk and sat on the edge of it, close to Kaylee. "I don't understand what moves you, Ms. Frye."

"Me? Well, I'm clear as crystal. What about me is hard to understand?"

"Why are you here, Kaylee? With them? You came from good stock, honest, simple people. Your dad fixed things, and taught you the trade. You had a passion for engines and a lust for travel, so the moment you got an opportunity, you left. I get that." He got up from the desk and walked around her. But you've made planetfall dozens of times since you came aboard Serenity, and more significantly, since the Tams came aboard Serenity. Their problems are not your problems, and loyalty only takes you so far. You are not a fighter, you are smart. And you've had ample opportunity to leave." He came around to the front of her and leaned in close, putting one hand out on her shoulder. "Why are you still here?"

Kaylee's face was troubled, but she stayed silent. The Admiral sighed, rose, and walked back around behind his desk. As he sat, he said, "Ms. Frye, I have a certain amount of leeway in regards to what happens to you here. River is going back to the Academy, there's no stopping that. Mal and Simon will go to the highest security labor colony we have, on a moon with no name that they will never come back from. But for you and Inara, it doesn't have to be that way. It could be lighter work, or even simple incarceration with the possibility of daily recreation. If you make it easier on yourself, you don't have to share their fate."

Kaylee's face changed, hardened. She leaned forward. "Oh, you don't even know me. I am bad. And I hate the Alliance with a passion. Bringin' those Reavers along to your little blockade? That was _my_ idea. And Mal was going to give River up when he seen what you did to Shepherd Book and the people on Haven. It was me convinced him not to. You're right you don't know what moves me. You think I'm a pawn in this, but I'm the bloody queen." She sat back, fuming.

The Admiral looked down at his display, then back up at Kaylee confused. Slowly, understanding dawned on his face and he began to laugh. Just a chuckle at first, but it built up to nearly uncontrollable levels. He slammed a hand down hard on the desk. "You're in love!" he accused. "Oh, that's beautiful. Which one is it? The captain, or the doctor?" he asked, but he watched her expression as he said it and he instantly knew. "The doctor! You're in love with Simon Tam. Oh, Ms. Frye, I'm afraid I have bad news for you." He did not elaborate.

"Operative, you can take her. We don't need her anymore." He spun his chair around and looked out at Meridian again, and at the ships in equatorial orbit.

The Operative unlocked the chain from her cuffs and led her back to the door. Kaylee felt broken inside and didn't resist, but she refused to cry.

"Oh, Ms. Frye?" the Admiral called out when they'd gotten to the door, "Where is Zoë Washburne?"

"Go to hell," she said, and led the way back to the cells.

The operative traded her for Inara. Kaylee sat on the bench on one of the cell walls. When the Operative was out of ear shot, she started sobbing into her hands.

Simon stuck his face between the bars and reached out as far as he could. "It's okay, Kaylee," he called. "We'll get out of this."

Kaylee looked up and sniffed. "No it's not okay, Simon. It's bad. It's real bad."

"Kaylee?" called the Doctor from across the hallway, "What is it, child?" His deep resonant tones helped to calm her a bit.

"Oh, the usual, Doctor," Kaylee sighed, wiping her eyes. "Humans being húndàn to humans. Nothing to concern you 'Time Lords'."

He steepled his gloved hands and wore a look of concentration.

"Makes me wistful for when we were held captive by Cybermen," Kaylee went on. "You ever get wistful, Doctor?"

"Hmmm?" he said, broken from his thoughts. "No," he responded, then got a faraway look. "But I can still remember when I used to," he said quietly.

Inara was lead next into the Admiral's office and stood in front of the chair. She defiantly offered her wrists to be chained to the floor plate. The Operative took her wrists and removed her cuffs instead. Inara looks questioningly at the Admiral.

"Sit down please, Ms. Serra," the Admiral said.

Inara took a moment to compose herself, then sat down gracefully and waited.

The Admiral leaned back in his chair and watched her. He let nearly a minute go by before he spoke. "Congratulations, Ms. Serra, you're free," he finally said, then he leaned forward, collated a set of forms, and started writing on them.

Inara's jaw dropped, but she recovered quickly. "Free...? As in, free to go?"

The Admiral stopped writing and looked up, feigning surprise. "Yes. Of course." He put the pen down and sat back. "When you contracted with Captain Reynolds, it was clearly in good faith. And for some time it is reasonable to assume that you were unaware of his illicit endeavors. But you've cancelled three appointments, and missed the last two outright. You've made no new appointments in the last six months. One can only assume that you were being held against your will." He sat forward and picked up the pen again. "And now we've freed you, and House Madrassa will be pleased to welcome their sister home."

He filled out a couple more spots on the first form and signed the bottom. He turned the page over and started on the next, then paused and looked up. "In cloisters, of course. At first anyway. Then a teaching position may be found for you, or so I've been told." He turned back to filling out forms.

"So, I'm free," she repeated.

"A bit of Stockholm Syndrome is to be expected, Ms. Serra. Yes, I said free," he said without looking up. "There is a shuttle on its way to collect you and take you to Sihnon."

Inara stood up, mind racing. No one moved to stop her. "Thank you, Admiral," she said and turned to leave.

Just before she reached the door, the Admiral spoke again. "Of course, you will be expected to testify."

Inara stopped with her hand outstretched toward the door. She closed both her fist and her eyes, and her heart sank. "Testify," she repeated hopelessly.

"Oh yes," said the Admiral, setting down the pen again and pushing his chair back. "Naturally as the victim here, you will want to be seen cooperating fully. We'll need to take your statement, and should there be a trial, you will be given an opportunity to face your oppressors."

Inara breathed deeply, steadying herself. She turned and returned to the chair.

"First things first, Ms. Serra." The Admiral leaned back in his chair. "Where is Zoë Washburne?"

"Zoë?" Inara asked. "What do you want Zoë for?"

"Why, the massacre of the Agamemnon, of course. A mass murderer on that scale can not be allowed to go free. I have been tasked with hunting her down, and make no mistake, Ms. Serra, I will find her."

Inara's lips tightened, annoyed. She composed herself briefly before responding. "Admiral, we have thus far conducted ourselves politely. I would appreciate if we continued in this vein. You and I both know that the events on the Agamemnon did not occur as shown on the bounty vid. Now, I don't know if you doctored that yourself, but I am certain you are aware of it. The entire crew was alive when we left the ship, and better off than when we arrived."

The Admiral sat silently contemplating her words. He sighed and leaned forward, sweeping the papers to the side of his desk. "Alright, you've called my bluff. I should have anticipated it. Okay, I will pay you the respect of being honest with you. The truth is, she knows something dangerous. She has neither the temperament nor training to be trusted to keep quiet about it. It will go a long way toward your rehabilitation if you severed ties and turned her in. Now, where is Zoë Washburne?"

"Exactly what does she know that is so dangerous?" Inara asked.

"Well, since you doubtless know as well, I'll play it for you", he responded. He hit several keys on his desktop display, then held down one button. His favorite part from the Agamemnon Security Holo-feed audio played, "- You see, I'm an alien. A Timelord, to be precise, from Gallifrey in the constellation Kasterborous." The Admiral lifted his finger and the audio stopped. He sat back in his chair and waited for a response.

Thirty seconds later, when it was obvious that no response was forthcoming, he spoke. "It is common knowledge that there are no aliens in the 'verse. And yet, we have reason to believe this man's claim and that we have an alien right here in one of my holding cells. We are still dealing with the fallout from the Miranda incident; just imagine what would happen if people found out there were aliens among us -" The Admiral leaned in close, lowered his voice and tapped the desk for emphasis, "- and they look just like us."

Inara stood up. "The Doctor is no danger to anyone. Bring him here from your cell and spend just five minutes with him and you will see for yourself."

"Ha!" the Admiral exclaimed, banging on the desk and startling Inara. "I didn't actually know for sure that was the same man, though I had my suspicions. Thank you for confirming them. The Doctor, you say? What an odd thing to call oneself. I wonder what he means by it." He punched a few more buttons on his desktop and brought up a live feed from the holding cells on his wall. With another keystroke he focused in on the one containing the Doctor and Ace. "How does he do it, do you know? Is he some sort of shape shifter?"

Inara sat back down, fuming and disgusted with herself. She avoided eye contact with the Admiral.

"No matter", the Admiral waved her off. "I think I will take your advice, Ms. Serra. I think I'm ready to speak with him now. Thank you Operative, you may take her away now." He spun around in his chair and faced the planetary view again.

Inara stood and offered her wrists. The Operative cuffed her and led her back to her cell.


	9. Chapter 9

The Operative returned shortly with the Doctor.

The Doctor's cuffs were removed. He resisted the urge to rub the cuff marks on his wrists. "Mate in nine moves," he said.

The Admiral looked up at him blankly for a moment, then over at his chess set. He smiled broadly. "You play chess then, Doctor?"

The Doctor responded casually, "Time permitting. You know, when I'm not being imprisoned for saving the day, and the like. You?"

The Operative gestured for the Doctor to sit. The Doctor smiled and nodded his thanks, hitched up his pant legs and sat.

The Admiral said, "I love chess. I find it to be a great analogy for life, and the battles, real or metaphorical, that we face day to day. I do have trouble finding a worthy opponent though, so I like to spend my time studying past games as played by the grandmasters. I lay out the board the way they played it and at every stage I contemplate all the moves that were available to the player and why the one they chose was the right one. Or, in the case of the loser, at what point they went wrong." The Admiral stood and walked around the side of his desk. He picked up the end table and carried out to set in front of the Doctor. He then sat on the edge of his desk and continued. "This game, for instance is Fischer versus Spasskey, in the 1972 World Championship, game three. Bobby Fischer has just moved his pawn to g3, and Boris Spasskey responded by moving his Bishop to d7."

"Mmmm," the Doctor responded. "I recognized it the moment I walked in."

The Admiral lowered his head, smiling condescendingly. "Well, then you also know that we are 18 rounds into the game, and Fischer went on to win in round 41. It is not, 'Mate in nine moves'."

"I apologize if I misled you, Admiral. I didn't intend to mean that Fischer went on to win in nine moves, I meant that one could win this game in nine moves," the Doctor stubbornly replied.

The Admiral was growing more exasperated. "Doctor, this game was one of the all time greats. Fischer and Spasskey had met in seven previous games, and Fischer had never managed to beat Spasskey. This game was a turning point in many ways, not the least of which was that Fischer defeated his nemesis for the first time, but also America took its place officially on the world stage of chess. Fischer went on to dominate the match, forcing draws in most cases where he didn't win outright, and only losing one more game. I have analyzed the game many times, and while there was plenty of room for Spasskey to improve, for instance in rounds 11 and 15, Fischer's play left no room for improvement! In short, Doctor, Bobby Fischer played a perfect game of chess that day and it was 'Mate in _twenty-three_ '."

"Hah!" the Doctor said, looking at the board, not at the Admiral. "Flawless, maybe. Hardly perfect."

The Admiral did his best to control his temper, but he was clearly annoyed. "Define the distinction, please, between 'perfect' and 'flawless'," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"My dear Admiral," the Doctor began. It was his turn to be condescending now. "A game of chess isn't simply a mechanical tit-for-tat. Otherwise we'd have been watching matches of machine versus machine for ages. You don't play the pieces on the board, you play the person sitting across the table. Fischer was afraid of Spasskey, and he played carefully out of fear. Spasskey was overconfident, assured by his previous wins and could have been lured into a trap earlier and trounced mightily. Mate in nine." He picked up a knight with one gloved hand and moved it to g5.

"You speak as though you knew Fischer," the Admiral laughed.

"Well, we've met," the Doctor responded nonchalantly. "I don't like to drop names, but I actually knew Spasskey better."

"This is absurd!" the Admiral said loudly, picking up the table and moving it back beside the desk. He was rather rough, and some of the pieces moved, but he didn't correct them. "And, I didn't bring you here to discuss chess!"

"Oh yes? Tell me Admiral, why did you bring me here?"

The Admiral slammed his fist down on his desk, and the audio clip played again, "- You see, I'm an alien. A Timelord, to be precise, from Gallifrey in the constellation Kasterborous." He raised his hand, visibly calmed himself and straightened his uniform before sitting down.

He signaled the Operative that he was in control again by raising one hand. "Tell me about Gallifrey, Doctor. I've never met an alien before." He pressed a few other keys on his desk, then looked up at the Doctor, expectantly.

"What's to tell? It's a planet like any other. A little older than most. Peopled by the stodgiest dinosaurs you'd ever care to meet. You'd fit right in."

The Admiral refused to rise to the bait this time. "And why do you call yourselves 'Time Lords'?"

"Because the word 'Gallifreyan' doesn't roll off the tip of one's tongue, does it? And aside from being stodgy, my people are rather fuller of themselves than strictly warranted. Resting on the laurels of greatness, you might say."

The Admiral thought the Doctor rolled his 'r's more than strictly warranted, but didn't say so. "Doctor, allow me to paint a picture of your future: You will be drugged, tortured, interrogated, experimented upon, and dissected. Quite possibly, not in that order. This, here, is a brief respite in what will forever more be a long life of unending agony. I do suggest you take these questions more seriously, this will be the last chance to answer them conversationally."

"Duly noted, Admiral," the Doctor replied, somewhat more seriously.

The Admiral watched the Doctor carefully while he contemplated his next question. Finally, with a few keystrokes on his desk, he brought up a holo-image of the Doctor from the Agamemnon footage. "You don't look like him anymore. I was hoping to see you change for myself. Can you look like anybody? Me, for instance?"

"It doesn't work like that, Admiral. I only change my appearance when I die. And I don't get to choose my appearance. If there's a rhyme or reason behind it, I've yet to figure it out."

"When you die?" the Admiral prompted.

"Yes. A Time Lord gets to live thirteen lives, this is my seventh. I die, then... I just change." He shrugged. "It's what I've always done, it's what my parents did before me." The Admiral gave the Doctor a stern look, and the Doctor became contrite. "Sorry, I can't help it. 'Flippancy will out'."

The Admiral hit a few more keys, and the holo-image zoomed in to the Doctor's hand, and the device he had clutched in it.

"Oh! The un-doctored version," the Doctor said.

The Admiral ignored his return to flippancy. "What is this device, Doctor, and more importantly, where is it now? It wasn't on you when you were... acquired."

"That, is a sonic screwdriver. A useful multi-purpose tool. As to where mine is, it was destroyed by a Terileptil. You can find it now, on the floor of a jail cell in London, 1666. Just before the Great Fire. 'Now', being a relative term, of course. I've always meant to make a new one, but never quite gotten around to it. It appears one day I will." He looked closely at the sonic in the holo-image. "Bit flashy for my tastes though." He sat back in his chair and folded his gloved hands across his lap.

The Admiral switched the holo-display to a shot of Zoë, and asked, "Where is Zoë Washburne?"

"Who?" the Doctor responded. "If you are referring to the woman in the image here, we've never had the privilege."

The Admiral looked down at his desk display and frowned. "The biometric scanner doesn't know how to read your physiology, but we know you've met because we've seen you together." He tapped some more buttons and the image changed to the three of them standing together on Agamemnon's bridge.

"Your past, my future," the Doctor sighed exasperated. "Yes, I will have met her by the time you filmed that, but that's still ages from now, for me. Please try to keep up."

The Admiral was becoming furious again and was about to yell something, but the Doctor interrupted him. "What I don't understand, is that you bemoan having no _'worthy opponents_ ' to play chess against, then when one drops in your lap, you spend your time asking him pointless questions about events that haven't taken place yet! You are just itching to fix those pieces you jostled out of place, aren't you? And when this interview is over, you are going to explore where moving that knight would take us. Come on, Admiral! Metaphorically or not, we're already playing chess!"

The Admiral jumped out of his seat. He hurled the end table against the wall, chess pieces flying everywhere. The Operative took a step forward to stand next to the Doctor. He wore an expression of warning on his face. "Don't go thinkin' you know me!" the Admiral yelled, a hint of rim-worlder twang slipping into his accent.

The Doctor sat calmly through the Admiral's tantrum, keeping eye contact, but a curious expression.

The Admiral visibly calmed himself, straightened out his uniform and sat back down. "I apologize for that... unbecoming scene. Well Doctor, since we're playing chess, it is my pleasure to inform you that this is the part where I say 'Checkmate'." He paused for drama, and allowed a small smile to slowly spread across his face. "Operative, please escort the Doctor back to his cell. Bring me River Tam."

The Doctor was led back to his cell, and the guards locked it behind him. Then the two guards pulled out stun batons while the Operative entered River's cell and pulled her out by her manacles. She showed no signs of resistance, but her lower lip trembled and her eyes looked close to panic.

"Be brave, River," the Doctor whispered to himself as she was being led away. "We will need you soon."

Kaylee came to the bars of her cell and watched the Doctor with an odd expression. After a moment she said, "They didn't put the cuffs back on you."

"The good admiral wants me to know he's not afraid of me," the Doctor replied distantly, still looking at the spot he could last see River. "That's how you know for certain that he is."

* * *

River was made to sit in the metal chair in front of the Admiral. Her manacles were chained behind her back to the bolt on the floor, her elbows forced painfully into the small of her back. River let her head fall forward, hair in her face.

The Admiral watched all this with a proud smile, as a father might wear while a daughter receives an award. "River, I can not begin to tell you how much it means to the Alliance to have you finally back."

River sat numbly, shoulders sagging, looking at the floor in front of her as seen through strands of sweat-soaked hair.

"You are going to be an example to the 'verse." The Admiral paused again, but when no response was forthcoming, he went on. "Of course, they want it to be seen that one can not escape them. And of course, they want it seen that no matter how strong one is, the Alliance is stronger. But they don't want to stomp you flat and leave your body hanging from the gates of the city - a warning to all who would emulate your example. No! They will make you the best of them. Your conditioning will be completed, and you will be fitted with an aux port, like mine." He tapped on the base of his skull. "Your memories of your brother, and of Serenity will be erased. You will have nothing to hold you back any longer."

He leaned forward, looking for some sign that he'd gotten to her, but River remained unresponsive. He leaned back in his chair and continued. "You will be our greatest weapon. With your skill set, and with your morals removed, you'll be unstoppable. Just think of the good you will do, tracking down and eliminating dissidents like Malcolm Reynolds and his crew."

River's shoulder twitched and her head bobbed slightly. The Admiral smiled and went on. "Oh, and I neglected to mention the best part. There won't be any faking progress, or hiding rebellious thoughts this time. For graduation, you will be expected to do something that you could never fake. You are going to kill Simon with your bare hands."

There was no moment of decision, no preparation with muscles tensing, or any warning signs. The moment the Admiral finished his sentence, River was in motion at top speed. She rolled forward off the chair and crossed her legs, one in front of the front legs of the chair, one behind them, she rolled over her right shoulder and flung her legs forward by snapping her back from convex to concave. She let go of the heavy, metal chair and came down hard on her shoulder, dislocating it. The Admiral barely dodged out of the way of the chair which continued full force into the window separating them from the vacuum of space. A tiny hairline crack appeared in its surface. River got to her knees and brought her arms up overhead, rolling the dislocated shoulder joint in what must have been an extremely painful way to get her manacles in front of her. When the Admiral dodged the chair, he'd spun around in his seat bringing his head just within reach, and River brought her two manacled hands down hard.

Just before she would have split his skull like a melon, the Operative yanked hard on her chain and she ended up splintering the corner of his desk instead. The Operative stomped hard on the chain, pulling River off balance and yelled, "Guards!"

The door opened up and the two guards raced in carrying their stun batons. The Operative pulled the chain high above River's head, forcing her arms up painfully, and held her tightly with his other arm around her chest. River lifted one leg over her head to kick him in the face, but he did not let go. Then the guards were there with their batons, striking her over and over. She crumpled to the ground, but they continued to attack until she stopped moving. The Operative handed the keys to one of the guards, who removed the chain from River's manacles and the two of them dragged her back to her cell.

The Operative turned to the Admiral who was running a finger over the crack in the window with a mix of awe and curiosity. "What exactly did you gain by provoking her like that?"

The Admiral turned, a smile on his face. "Oh, a bit of catharsis, I suppose. I admit it is a character flaw, but I've always loved that moment in chess when you say, 'checkmate'. You see, gloating is actually _built into_ the game. You don't just win the game, you announce it. And if done properly, you get to watch as the other person desperately searches for a way out of it before accepting the inevitable. I concede that I am soon to forget all of this, so it is just a hollow victory, but it feels good just the same."

The Operative stood disapproving, but saying nothing. The Admiral chuckled. "She was very impressive though, wasn't she? I barely dodged that chair, and only realize in hindsight that I couldn't have if she hadn't wanted me to. Thank goodness you were there."

The Operative turned and walked out of the room without a word.

River was conscious when she was dragged back into her cell, arms behind her back again, but she was weeping. Kaylee and Inara stood back while the guards entered and until they left, but they rushed in to help River as soon as they were outside the cell door. River winced with pain as Inara touched her dislocated shoulder and continued sobbing.

Simon rushed to the bars, frustrated at his inability to connect with his sister. He stuck his face through as far as he could and called out, "Mei-mei!" He reached through the bars with one arm, but it wasn't taken. Finally, he started singing in Chinese. It was a little song their mother used to sing when River was afraid of the lightning when they were both little. River lifted her head when she heard the song, and slowly her breathing calmed, and the crying lessened.

The Doctor stood at the bars and said, "There, there, River. It's almost over." He watched as Kaylee and Inara helped River to her feet. "Here," he said. "Maybe this will help." He reached up to his jacket pocket and removed his red handkerchief, making to throw it to the girls across the way. Just before doing so, he looked down to notice a second, yellow handkerchief had popped up and was now sticking out of his pocket. "That's odd," he said, and pulled it out with his left hand. A third, blue handkerchief popped up. Looking very surprised now, he dropped the red handkerchief from his outstretched right hand to pull out the blue one. When he noticed it falling to the floor, he dropped the yellow one to grab the red one, then the blue one to grab the yellow. He quickly juggled these for a few moments, then swept them all up in his right hand and said, "Ta-da!" posing with his arms wide and a goofy smile on his face.

Despite how silly that was, River first smiled, then chuckled. The Doctor wrapped a small candy in the red handkerchief to give it weight, then tossed it across where Kaylee caught it. She unwrapped the candy and gave it to River, then wiped sweat and tears from River's face. Simon, who had stopped singing part-way through the Doctor's performance, started up again, a little quieter this time.


	10. Chapter 10

Alliance officials were sending a ship to retrieve the prisoners and the Operative, which should reach them at three bells the next morning. A second shuttle would arrive shortly after that to silence his crew and wipe his memories of the event. He had intended to get some sleep before they arrived, but he was preoccupied. He was currently looking through a short list of candidates for replacement officers, but he found he couldn't even focus on that. He swiped the list off his screen and got up to pace.

He found himself in the head, and decided that a hot shower was just the thing he needed. He disrobed quickly and stood under the hot water. It scalded a bit, but it was what he wanted just then. Several minutes later, he found he still couldn't calm his mind. He pounded his fist against the tile of the shower wall and turned off the water in frustration. He quickly threw a towel around himself and sat in front of his vid screen, not bothering to dry off. He really had thought the satisfaction of setting River off would have been what he needed to forget what the Doctor had said, but much to his annoyance, the Doctor had been correct. All he could think about was, King's knight to g5. What if Fischer had done this? It clearly wasn't a *bad* move, but was it better? It opened up his defenses more, invited an aggressive offense, but -

The Admiral cursed. He was thinking about it again. The truly frustrating thing was, in a few hours, they were going to come and wipe his memory of the whole thing. He wouldn't remember the encounter with the Doctor, so he certainly wouldn't know about this unconventional move. He was trying not to think about it because he didn't want to take the Doctor's bait. It would mean that he was right. But the truth was he *had* to know. He would have to reset the board and play through all the scenarios until he proved the Doctor wrong.

He punched a couple buttons and brought up ship's time. It was shortly after first bell. He cursed again. There wouldn't be time. He got up and paced again.

Once he came to the conclusion, he moved with certainty. There were no other choices available to him. He would have to play a game against the Doctor. But he still had to maneuver carefully. He sat in front of the vid screen and punched a few buttons. The Operative appeared on screen moments later. Good. If he wasn't sleeping, it meant he was thinking along similar lines.

"Operative," he said by way of greeting. "Are you satisfied with your encounter with Captain Reynolds?" he asked.

The Operative's face showed a micro-expression of self-disgust before it resumed its more accustomed calm exterior. "I must admit, I am not."

"At three bells, he will be taken, forever beyond your reach, and you will never know: How did he do it?" the Admiral prompted.

The Operative paused before admitting, "Yes."

"But as you said during our debriefing with him, he is not critical to the Alliance in any way. They are likely to just kill him as soon as we hand him over. The likelihood of a mock-trial is slim at best, and they won't be disappointed if he dies attempting escape."

The Operative was a model of self-control. To the Admiral, who made his career reading people and anticipating their moves, it was obvious that he wanted to be excited by the proposition the Admiral seemed to be offering, but he remained outwardly calm. "Go on," was all he said.

The Admiral sat forward. He had no reason to hide his excitement. "What if I offered you the opportunity to face off against him? One on one, to the death. We close off the holo-room sector, and only my private guard will know we are there. They are to be silenced soon anyway. You can find out how good he is, and what mistake your Operative made. We'd have to kill him either way, but you would know. And a dangerous man would be expunged, no harm done."

The Operative considered it, but he was going to say yes, the Admiral was sure. "And why would you offer me this satisfaction? What do you gain in doing so?"

The Admiral laid his cards on the table. "I am similarly frustrated by the challenge presented by the Doctor. I need to face him, prove I can beat him. My memory gets wiped in a few hours, so it means little in the end, but I have to know."

The Operative nodded understanding. "I can not let my feelings cloud my judgement, Admiral," he said. The Admiral had a moment of pure panic, but the Operative went on. "I see no threat in the Doctor. He is a little man with no fighting skills. Taking him from the holding cells does not concern me in the least. Malcolm Reynolds is a threat. Despite the fact I feel certain I could take him in a fight, I must take into account the fact that he beat my Operative, and take him seriously. On the other hand, he has had exposure to others in the time since then, and if he has learned something, he may have spread that knowledge. It is in the Alliance's best interest if we learn what that is before eliminating him. I... worry... that this threat may not be a similar concern for the council and they may decide to silence him. If I face him now, I can make that determination. If he defeats me, every moment will be recorded, and my successor will learn his secret. If I defeat him, we had nothing to worry about in the first place, and it was my Operative that developed a weakness beyond my ability to know.

"Therefore, I conclude that your proposal is the logical course," the Operative finished.

The Admiral was prepared. "I will seal off that sector immediately and dismiss all non-essential personnel from the station. Prepare yourself. I will have both of them in that room in one half hour.

* * *

The Doctor was sitting with his eyes closed on the small bench provided when the soldiers entered. The lighting came on in red and the two guards opened his cell. He stood, ready for this, and walked out. They closed the cell behind him and opened the cell that Mal and Simon shared. Malcolm was sleeping when they entered, and they didn't bother to wake him, they just dragged him out. He struggled reflexively before he saw the Doctor and realized what was going in. They pushed him forward wordlessly and one trained his gun on Mal while the other locked the door behind him. Simon had been awakened, but merely watched what happened. After they had exited the cell block he whispered loudly, "The Doctor and Mal have been taken."

"Where are we going," Mal asked as they turned through corridor after corridor. One of the guards responded by hitting him in the back of the head with the butt of his gun, then prodding him in back with the muzzle. They proceeded through several more corridors and down a lift two levels. They came out into a dark corridor, otherwise similar to all the others. They were pushed forward again with the guns, and continued on, but were stopped in front of a double-wide door. The door opened and they were pushed inside. The door shut behind them with the guards outside.

This room, in contrast to the rest of the station they had been led through, was brightly lit. It was rectangular, longer than it was wide. The floor was covered in mats, and interspersed along the walls were similar padded mats. Between these were racks with traditional martial arts weaponry. There were staffs and polearms and swords, both wooden and sharpened steel. There were punching bags and practice dummies, but they had all been pushed off into the far corner.

Half way down the room, directly under a light and off to the right side, was the Admiral's chess set on it's end table, looking more like a pedestal with a padded wooden chair on either side. The Admiral and the Operative each stood in front of them at parade rest. The Admiral was in full military blues. The Operative was once again dressed as he had been when they had been captured. He had a long-sleeve black spandex shirt with body armor covering his chest, and flowing black pants tucked into his boots. Absent though was the sword.

"Good evening gentlemen," the Admiral started. "The deal is this. Mr. Reynolds, you will fight the Operative to the death. Your motivation is clear. If you win, you survive with the vain hope of a later escape before your summary execution, nothing more. Doctor, you and I will play our finest game of chess. Clearly we do not want you dead either way, so to motivate you, consider the treatment of your friends. Ms. Frye, Ms. McShane and Ms. Serra can spend the rest of their lives on a penal moon under the harshest conditions the Alliance can inflict, or, with a word from me, they can live out their days in simple incarceration. The two of us will play a single game of chess. There will be a hard time limit. At 0300, a shuttle comes to collect you. If the game is not over at this time, you forfeit no matter the point score. If you win the game, on my honor I will recommend the women be allotted every comfort allowed while still maintaining proper security."

There was a moment of silence as the two considered the deal, then the Doctor said, "I agree to your terms."

"In that case, Doctor, follow me," the Admiral said, and led the way to the chess board. The Doctor followed.

The Operative led the way to a spot even with the chess board, but off to the left. He and Mal faced off roughly three meters apart.

"I'll need my gun," Mal said.

"You won't be getting your gun," the Operative responded coolly.

"When I faced your man, I was strapped."

The Operative sighed. "I won't risk you turning the gun on the Admiral. Let's just skip forward to the point where I would easily disarm you, and take it from there?"

The Admiral offered the Doctor his choice of seat, in front of the black pieces, or the white.

"No," the Doctor said disapprovingly. "I find that this _one_ randomization makes all the difference in a proper game of chess."

The Admiral shrugged and selected one white pawn and one black pawn from the board and faced the Doctor with his hands behind his back. He rolled the two pieces several times between his hands, and when he was satisfied the Doctor couldn't know which hand contained which piece, he offered his outstretched fists to him.

The Doctor considered his choice, then instead of picking one of the outstretched hands, he turned and walked the three steps to where the Operative was standing. The Operative looked at him oddly, but said nothing as he approached.

The Doctor stood looking up at the much taller figure of the Operative. "I don't want to go so far as to suggest that I don't trust the good admiral, so let's just say, I don't know him," the Doctor said. "However, in your position, and with your training, I believe you to be an honorable man, and so I will trust you. Will you ensure that the bargains we strike this day will be carried out?" The Doctor extended his hand to shake.

The Operative's eyes darted over to the Admiral briefly, but his expression did not change. "I will," he said, and shook the Doctor's hand.

The Doctor returned to the Admiral, and slapped the back of his left hand. The Admiral turned over his left hand and opened it. "White. How appropriate," he said with a smile. He walked to the other side of the board and sat down on the black side, replacing the two pawns. The Doctor sat down on the chair in front of the white pieces and pulled his chair in close.

The Operative walked to the rack on the far wall containing the swords. He pulled out two katanas and returned to his place before tossing one to Mal.

Mal stepped out of the way and let the blade bounce off the padded floor, only picking it up after it came to a rest. Both the Operative and the Admiral watched him with a patronizing look on their faces.

"What?" Mal said. "This thing is sharp." He took a few practice slashes, getting a feel for its weight. The Doctor noted that he held it more like a broadsword than a katana, choked up on the guard, one handed, and swinging it forward and down with brute strength. The Operative waited patiently with his sword down in the hidari gedan no kamae pose.

Mal nodded that he was ready, and the Operative bowed deeply without taking his eyes off of Mal. Mal inclined his head slightly, slashed down and to the right in a sort of salute, then charged at the Operative with his sword overhead.

The Doctor moved pawn to e4, paying no head to the clash of metal coming from next to him. The Admiral smiled and said, "Somehow I was expecting a less orthodox opening coming from you."

"As Fischer said, E4 is 'best by test'," the Doctor said absently, surveying the board.

"I think I'll go with the Sicilian defense," the Admiral said and moved his pawn to c5 to counter.

The Operative easily brought his sword up in time as Mal's sword crashed down heavily onto it. He stepped to the side, twisted his blade and slashed at Mal's back as he passed. Mal turned and held his blade out to parry.

"I know better than to go against a Sicilian when death is on the line," the Doctor said and moved his knight to f3.

"Boring and predictable play so far, Doctor," the Admiral commented. He moved his pawn to e6.

Mal lunged forward, but feinted, drawing back at the last moment. The Operative barely dipped his sword in response. The two described a half-circle clockwise on the practice mats.

The Doctor considered his next move for a few moments, then quickly moved his pawn to d4. "Weak again," the Admiral responded, capturing with his own pawn, cxd4. "Losing pieces so early in the game is not a good sign."

Mal lunged forward again just as before, but just as he drew back, he whipped his sword around in a circle aimed at the Operative's leg. He reacted late, pulling back a moment too slowly and suffered a slash through the fabric of his pant leg. "Not sporting, Captain Reynolds. The legs are not considered a fair dueling target, but we can play by your rules."

The Doctor responded to the Admiral's jabs. "Tell me, Admiral, do you simply enjoy the sound of your own voice, or are you trying to upset me?" He captured the pawn with his knight, Nxd4.

"A little of both if I'm honest, Doctor. As you say, only a small portion of chess is played out on the board. I've seen a match decided by the constant tapping of a pencil." He moved his pawn to a6.

The Operative startled Mal by charging and assaulting him with repeated overhead strikes. Mal stumbled backward, fighting to deflect each blow. He became aware that he was holding the sword wrong and gripped it with both hands, strengthening his defense and halting the Operative's charge. The Operative whipped his blade around to sting at Mal's left shoulder, drawing first blood.

Mal flinched, and circled around, sparing a glance at the flesh wound. His gaze was all concentration now.

The Doctor moved his other knight to c3. Sweat was beginning to form on his brow as his eyes darted to all parts of the board.

"Alright..." the Admiral said doubtfully and moved pawn to b5.

Mal charged again, and the Operative deflected his blade. He spun, holding Mal's blade in place with his, then released it to sweep at Mal's back as he passed. His sword cut cleanly through Mal's shirt and drew blood as well.

Mal cried out and let go of his sword with his left hand to brace his back as he turned to face the Operative again. He held his sword at arm's length, pointing it at the Operative's heart. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead.

The Doctor countered with pawn to b4. For the first time, the Admiral didn't comment, but contemplated the move before making his own. He ended up capturing the b4 pawn with his bishop.

The Doctor quickly moved his bishop to bolster his knight at d2. The Admiral responded by moving his knight to f6, and the Doctor quickly moved his pawn to defend at f3. The Admiral sat back and viewed the entire board as a whole.

Mal blinked, and the Operative was upon him. He barely knocked aside the initial swing from the right, and the Operative's blade rebounded to quickly come at him from the right. Mal stepped back and blocked again, but with a bit too much strength. The Operative's blade fell back to easily and came at him again from the right. Mal didn't respond quickly enough, and it bit deeply into his upper arm. The Operative fell back quickly, out of range of Mal's clumsy response.

Mal took a few steps back and made a practice swing before switching the sword to his left hand. The Operative circled around with the look of a predator in his eye. Blood streamed freely down Mal's arm, staining his shirt a deeper red.

The Doctor spared Mal a concerned look before returning to the game in front of him. He sat anxiously watching as the Admiral took his time in moving. Finally, he moved his queen to b6. The Doctor quickly responded with knight to e2, and sat back smugly.

Mal looked again at his right arm. He was really losing a lot of blood. He shook it, and blood sprayed across the mat in an arc. "Perhaps you'd like to give up now?" Mal asked the Operative.

A mild look of annoyance came over the Operative's face, and he stepped in for another attack. He came at Mal with overhead strikes, first left, then right, then left again. Mal backed away, barely getting his sword up in time as each blow tested his left arm's strength. He felt his back touch the wall. The Operative suddenly dropped and spun. His blade cut into the bone of Mal's right lower leg.

Mal brought his blade down hard, but the Operative had his up in time to block. He stood up again, the two blades pressed together, the two combatants' faces a breath apart.

The Admiral was perplexed by both the Doctor's move, and his smug look about it. He looked back up at the Doctor, but he was paying more attention to the fight. The Admiral snapped his fingers several times rapidly to draw the Doctor's attention back to the game, then he deliberately slammed his bishop down on c5. The Doctor absently moved his queen to c1, and returned his attention to the fight.

Mal gripped his sword with both hands and pushed. Even with both arms injured he was able to make slow progress against the Operative. "I guess that's a no," he said. He brought his right leg up and kicked hard at the Operative's chest plate. The Operative was forced several steps back and had the wind knocked out of him momentarily. Mal circled around, away from the wall, but he had a distinct limp now. He let go of the sword with his right arm again and tried to shake some feeling back into it. More blood sprayed across the mat, and he renewed his grip.

The Admiral picked up his pawn and moved it to d5. He had to get the Doctor's attention again. The Doctor moved his knight to f4. The Admiral castled king-side and the Doctor moved his other knight to d3.

Mal and the Operative both moved at once, trading blows and passing close to end up in each other's starting location.

The Admiral caught himself watching the battle as well. He chuckled and moved his bishop to d4. The Doctor watched him, then moved a pawn to e5, and returned his attention to the fight.

The Admiral taunted the Doctor, "Doctor, you should pay more attention to the game at hand. Captain Reynolds isn't the only one to make a fatal mistake." He picked up his knight and moved it to d7.

The Doctor glanced at the board, then did a double-take and sat up straighter. He cried out in frustration, and reached for his queen but pulled back before moving it. Instead he moved rook to b1.

Mal circled the Operative. The Operative stayed in one spot, but pivoted to constantly face Mal. When Mal had the Operative's back to the wall, he charged in. He swung high and the Operative blocked. Mal kicked him in the chest again. The Operative saw the move coming and braced himself with one leg behind him. He let his chest armor absorb the brunt of the impact. Mal stumbled back several paces and started circling again.

"Pathetic, Doctor. And you claimed to be a ' _worthy opponent_ '. The Admiral captured the pawn at e5 with his knight. "I should have never listened. I should have left you in your cell and gotten a good night's sleep. This wasn't even a proper diversion, much less a challenge."

The Doctor captured the Admiral's knight by moving his knight to e5. "What do you think of that then, Admiral?"

The Admiral captured the Doctor's knight with his bishop. "Oh," the Doctor said glumly. "That's what you think, hmm?" He twiddled his fingers together for a few moments, then moved his own bishop to d3.

"Enough," the Operative said. "If you have any last trick up your blood-soaked sleeve, I suggest you use it now. Let's finish this." He took up a Ko Gasumi pose and walked swiftly at Mal. Mal charged him, knocked his blade aside and swung hard at waist level. The Operative's blade was down in time to block, then he raked hard across the back of Mal's ankles. Mal fell to hands and knees and cried out.

He placed his sword point-down on the floor and pushed himself up to kneeling. The Operative spun and plunged his sword into Mal's back. Mal screamed again, and looked down to watch the end of the Operative's sword come out through his chest. His sword dropped from his fingers and he coughed up blood. He tried to grab the Operative's blade with both hands, then he turned to look at the Doctor, surprise and sadness in his eyes, then he fell forward onto the mat.

The Doctor stood up and yelled, "Captain!".

The Admiral spoke up quickly. "Leave this table Doctor, and forfeit the game! You will seal the girls' fate."

The Doctor reluctantly sat back down but continued to watch Mal with concern.

The Operative stepped over Mal and grabbed his sword with both hands. He made one quick twist. Mal didn't move. The Operative yanked his sword free.

Mal's blood spread across the mats.

The Operative wiped blood from his blade onto his left arm and sheathed it, then approached the table. His expression didn't change the entire time. He came to parade rest at the side of the table and surveyed the chess board.

"So, in the metaphorical game of chess, we've taken your queen, and on the board before us, I can take yours when I please," he said and moved knight to d7.

The Doctor looked up at the Operative before making his move. Not so stoic anymore, there was a trace of a smirk on his face. The Doctor appeared ill as he returned his attention to the board and moved his knight to e2. The Admiral responded as if he had known what the Doctor was going to do, and quickly moved his own knight to c5.

The Doctor gulped and moved his bishop to f4. The Admiral sighed and captured the bishop with his own. "Doctor, how long must we continue this farce? Why don't you just resign now?"

"I have had just about enough of you Admiral," the Doctor spat. "You know, your hubris truly knows no bounds. I'm the sort of person who tries to find the best in anyone. Our friend here, for example, _Mr. Operative_ ," the Doctor said, looking up and indicating him, "is calm, dedicated and capable. You, however, are just deliberately unlikeable."

The Doctor paused for a reaction from the Admiral, but he looked like he had just been slapped in the face. He obviously wasn't used to being spoken to like this. The Doctor went on. "You don't even seem to know what game we are playing! I warned you before about the pieces on the board. You are playing the person across the table! And we have been playing you this whole time. These pieces," he continued, waving his hands frantically over the chess set, "are only a means toward that end. Here, " he said and captured the Admiral's bishop with his queen. "Do you like that?"

The Admiral looked totally taken aback. "If you are trying to rile me, you are better at chess, and that is saying a lot. Perhaps we should just play?" The Doctor impatiently waved an arm over the board inviting him to move.

The Admiral picked up his bishop to move it, but the Doctor interrupted him. "Oh, and you were wrong about Captain Reynolds being my queen. More accurately, I am his."

The Admiral paused with his bishop over b7. "What do you mean?"

Suddenly he saw something move behind the Operative. The Operative caught the Admiral's eye movement and reacted instantly, but was still too late. Mal whacked him hard on the back of the head with a wooden practice sword and the Operative went down, unconscious.

"Check," Mal said, panting hard. He was standing there, bruised and sweaty, but with no sign of the blood or wounds he had suffered at the Operative's hand.

The Admiral stood up, sending his chair back.

The Doctor tutted. "Careful Admiral, leave this table and you forfeit the game!"

The Admiral looked down at the Doctor as if he were insane, then back to the doors. "Guards!" he yelled.

"Look at the board, Admiral!" the Doctor yelled. The Admiral looked the Doctor in the eyes, then looked down at the board. "Really look at it. Stop seeing what you want to see and look at what is really there!"

The Admiral looked at the board, and everything was as he expected, every piece in its place. But suddenly, something seemed odd. It was like a double exposure, something else was there but he couldn't quite make it out. He closed his eyes and shook his head to clear it. When he reopened his eyes, all the pieces were in different places. Half his pawns were captured, as were one of his knights and a bishop. His king was in check, and threatened by multiple white pieces. "No!" he cried softly. "It can't be..."

The Doctor reached out and grabbed him by the arm. "It was important that you knew! It was important that you saw that you were beaten! Handily! And the plan was his," he said, pointing to Mal, "I only followed the plan and played my part. He beat you because you underestimated him."

The door opened up, and the Admiral had a moment of hope, where he could just about believe he could still win and be smug about it, but then he saw it wasn't his guards coming in. It was that sheriff from Deadwood. Danton. And following behind him was Zoë Washburne.

The Doctor let go of the Admiral's arm and stood up. He took off his gloves and threw them onto the chess board.

Just then an alarm went off. "Time to go, Captain," Zoë said, and handed him his revolver and holster.

Mal threw down the practice sword and accepted his holster, tying it around his waist. Then he drew his revolver and pointed it at the Admiral. "Mate," he said.

"No!" the Doctor said and moved to get in the way. "Don't you kill him! I will not abide killing."

Mal looked at the Doctor as if about to say something, but instead he looked back at the Admiral. He aimed his gun a little lower and fired, hitting the Admiral in the gut. "There you go Doctor, he's not dead," he said. "Come on."

The Admiral collapsed in pain, holding his hand to the wound trying to stop the blood, as the four left the room.


	11. Chapter 11

The Admiral dragged himself down the corridor, clutching his abdomen with his left hand. The siren blared loudly and rhythmically, and every so often, a mechanized woman's voice called out the time to self destruct. Emergency lights blinked in succession, lighting the way to the nearest escape pod, but the Admiral continued to drag himself in the opposite direction. He cried out in pain, and pulled himself down a little further, leaving a streak of blood on the floor below.

He looked up. The door he wanted was just a few more meters away. He gathered his strength and pulled himself forward again.

* * *

 _Two nights ago, on Deadwood_ :

Mal turned a chair around and straddled it. He leaned in close, and said, "First part's up to you Danton. I'm going to need you to betray us. Make it look good, take the coin. I said before we'd pick the time and place, and that's here and now. Before they have a chance to get reinforcements out to the Rim."

Danton looked nervous about this but he nodded.

"They'll have us exactly where we want to be. Now, Admiral Steadman's weakness is his hubris. He's used to being the smartest person in the room, and like most people in that position, he tends to ignore other ideas because his are better. But if you tease him with something that he doesn't know, he will go to extremes to figure it out. Doctor, I want you to pick your moment and intrigue him."

The Doctor nodded. "I can do that."

"Good," Mal continued. "Now, it's going to be my job to get the Operative's attention. I will try to challenge him to a duel, or better, goad him into challenging me."

* * *

The Admiral pulled himself the last pace and reached the door. He took a few moments to rest, then turned over and pushed himself up against the wall next to it. He caught his breath, then raised his right arm as high as he could and felt around for the keypad next to the door. He found it and keyed in his code. The door slid open, and he flopped over the threshold. He grunted with effort and dragged his legs into the room.

Around the perimeter of the room, there were banks of computers and swivel chairs in front of each. In the center was a rectangular command table with a chair on each side. He began pulling himself toward this.

"Seven minutes until self destruct," came the woman's voice again.

The Admiral chuckled weakly and pulled himself forward again. "Good," he said. Less than three minutes had passed since Mal, the Doctor and Zoë had left him. Not enough time for them to free the others, get up to the docking bay and make their escape. They could have gotten to escape pods, but his first action would be to recall all of those.

He reached the closest chair and got his arm up on it. It rolled toward him. With a cry of pain, he pulled himself up to a kneeling position. He panted hard for several seconds, then checked his wound. He slowly peeled his hand away from it. His hand was covered in fresh blood, so he knew it was at least still oozing. He lifted his shirt and looked at the hole. It leaked, rhythmically with his heartbeat, but it appeared to be slowing. He chuckled grimly again. It was probably only slowing because he had so much less blood now. He felt a little woozy, and the pain was lessening.

He pulled himself up, managed to get a hip on the seat, then flopped down on it and rested again.

* * *

"Doctor Tam, you are key to this," Mal continued. "You do your thing with the hypnotic powder on the gloves. We'll have to arrange to get both the Operative and Admiral Steadman within arm's reach of you at some point."

Others around the table nodded, finally understanding Mal's plan, but Simon stopped him. "There's no way that will work. They won't let me just walk in wearing rubber gloves, it would look... odd. I'd need to use fabric or leather gloves, but with those, my own sweat would dissolve the crystals and it would soak into my skin."

The Doctor cleared his throat. He pulled out a pair of white fabric gloves. "I can deliver the payload. My hands don't sweat."

"Excellent," Mal said, "Even better. Should be easier to get the three of you in a room together with an excuse to shake hands."

* * *

The Admiral pushed with his foot to maneuver the chair over to the command table. He used the hand that wasn't holding his insides in to enter his access code, then navigated the command menu to recall all escape pods. Despite his pain and weakness, he smiled grimly.

Next he brought up architectural schematics and drilled into the docking bay. He deadlock sealed all docking clamps, then the access doors. No one was getting in, and no one was leaving.

He brought up security again, then the self-destruct timer. He attempted to cancel it but it asked for a code; 48 digits. He tried entering his 8 digit override code, but it failed. He knew that two more failures would lock out this console, so he gave up. He had expected something like that. He could spare the time now to rest before his next task.

* * *

"Now, once we've delivered the hypnotic powder, we'll get them to hand over the keys and the access codes. We will send you the signal, Danton, we set the self-destruct then you come get us in Serenity and we get everybody out."

"Ah, ah, ah," the Doctor said, "No killing. Destroy his station if you must, but we must let his crew get off."

"Granted. We send off the abandon ship order first, then self-destruct."

* * *

"Three minutes until self destruct," the computerized voice said, startling the Admiral awake. He had lost consciousness and almost four minutes had gone by. His task was almost done, but there was one more thing he had to do before he allowed himself to die.

He carefully peeled his hand away from his wound. He would need both hands for this part, and if he bled out now it wouldn't matter. He felt around under the table until his hands closed around a metal connector. He pulled on it, and a cable extended from its access port. He placed one hand on the back of his head and used it to guide the cable into his aux port. It clicked into place, and he twisted it to lock.

He hit a series of keys, smearing blood across them, and a section of the table directly in front of him rose up. His own pale face reflected back at him, and a red light blinked to tell him the recording was live. "This is Admiral August J. Steadman, priority code 42AJS61Q. This will be my final entry. The dissidents led by Captain Malcolm Reynolds and including the alien known only as 'The Doctor' have escaped custody and left me for dead. They set the station's auto-destruct, and I have been unable to countermand it. But the final victory is mine. I have locked out access to the docking bay and recalled all escape pods. Self-destruct is set for just under two minutes from now, and I have them all trapped on the station. Zoë Washburne was initially not with the rest of them, but she returned to rescue her captain and thereby sealed her own fate. I have locked all station access with a random 48 digit code that even I can't remember. There is no way off this station now. The crew of Serenity is completely contained, and will die in-"

"One minute until self destruct," said the computer.

"-in just under one minute. Just enough time for my final upload. Admiral Steadman," he paused and saluted, "signing off." He hit a few more buttons, and a box appeared on the monitor to confirm the upload. He hit enter, and let out the beginning of a scream. His face froze in that position with his eyes bulging and his mouth agape. His whole body flexed, his fingers digging into the arms of the chair, his back arched, and his legs braced against the ground.

Thirty seconds later, he slumped into the chair, unconscious. A scent of ozone and burnt flesh filled the room.

* * *

"Now our biggest problem is that if we beat this guy, the Alliance will send another. They will never stop until we are captured or dead. So we are going to die." Mal looked around the room at the rest of them. They were all waiting to see how they were going to survive their own deaths.

"The Doctor discovered something in the schematics of Admiral Steadman's implant. When they erase his memories, they end up with a copy of all the events he witnessed, to view at their leisure. But there's a flaw. You see, it doesn't capture everything he sees and hears, it captures his memories of the events. When we muck with his memories, we are changing the facts as the Alliance sees them. If we make him believe that he has killed us, that becomes a fact that the Alliance can view and review any old time they want to. They have to believe it, because they never have to lie to him, and he _can never lie to them_."

* * *

The Admiral woke up once more, and looked around. He hadn't expected to regain consciousness before the timer ran out. The pain in his abdomen was almost gone, but the pain in the back of his head was very real. He felt around for the cable, but instead he felt his bare aux port. He looked around again, and for the first time noticed there were other people present. Simon Tam was there, just to his right, and now he could see Simon's sister River as well. He sat up in panic, but their hands held him there. The war room faded around him, replaced by the floor of a cargo bay. He raised his hands in front of his face to see that he was in fact cuffed.

Captain Reynolds stepped into view with a big smile on his face.

"No!" the Admiral said, "The self-destruct..."

"Was a thing of beauty," Mal finished for him. "Lit up the sky like Unification Day," he said with some irony. "Too bad I didn't think to record it for you. I would'a loved to see your face as you watched your station blow up from the comfort of Serenity's bridge."

"But that's not possible! I saw-"

"Precisely what we wanted you to see," said the Doctor stepping into view. He tipped his hat to the Admiral and smiled broadly. "Doctor Tam helped us with the pharmaceuticals, and River helped with the details, telepathically. The self-destruct was real, but I'm afraid the part where you sealed us in was all in your head."

The Admiral lifted his shirt to examine his bullet wound, but found nothing but bare skin. His shoulders slumped as he realized it was all true. He looked around the cargo hold. Zoë was there, as was Sherriff Danton, guns trained on him. The Doctor's assistant Ace was there, just watching him with a mix of disgust and anger on her face. Inara and Kaylee were off to his side with a very large gun, but weren't pointing it at him. He turned around to see what they were aiming at and saw his entire crew's compliment lined up by the back wall behind a simple rope. The Operative was there as well, wearing River's manacles and chained to a weight bench.

The Admiral put on a show of confidence. "Well then Captain, what now? I heard what the Doctor said earlier, 'No killing.' Do you intend to hold us all forever? Because, the moment I get near a terminal with net access, I will blow your whole scheme."

Mal looked down at his hands, then rested one of them on his holster. "Can't say I'm too surprised you'd take that attitude."

The Doctor cut in. "What the Captain means, is that he has graciously decided to remand you and your crew into my custody. And I intend to take you somewhere where you will be unable to interfere."


	12. Chapter 12

The Doctor walked to the door of his Tardis and unlocked it with an odd key. River took one end of the rope containing the prisoners and untied it, stepping back until the prisoners had access to the Tardis. The Doctor held the door open, and they started filing in. "Just step to the back of the room, make way for the rest, yes, that's right," he said as they went in, each one shocked at the size of the room. Once they were all in, he tipped his hat and said, "Be right with you." Then he closed the door and crossed the bay to where Ace was standing.

"Well Ace, ready to go?" he asked.

"Sure, Professor. Where are we going next?" she replied.

"Well, you'll see in a moment," he said mysteriously. She smiled and walked to the Tardis doors, waiting for him there.

The Doctor headed next to stand with Mal. "Well, Captain," he said, extending his right hand. Mal took it and they shook, "you understand now you'll have to disappear. If you start taking jobs under the same old registration, this will all be for naught. What will you do? Pick up a black market transponder? Give the old ship a lick of paint? Change her name?"

That last got his attention. "Nooooo, uh-uh. Transponder's taken care of already. We've got a crate full of them. I'll consider the paint job, but there's no way we're changing the name." He raised a hand and patted one of the load-bearing beams affectionately. "Don't you listen to him, girl," he said to the ship. Then back to the Doctor, "Don't worry none, we'll be fine."

The Doctor said goodbye to the rest and joked to each about 'looking forward to having already seen you again'. He looked around for Kaylee and found her at the door to the Tardis talking to Ace.

"So you've been in the Tardis with two different Doctors," Ace was saying, "What's that like?"

"Pretty different, actually," Kaylee responded, looking up as the Doctor approached.

"How so?" Ace asked.

"Well, for one, he completely redecorated." She peeked her head inside and looked around appraisingly. "I actually like it better."

"Kaylee, my dear," the Doctor said, hooking his umbrella over one arm. "I guess this is goodbye for you and au revoir for me."

Kaylee gave the Doctor a big hug, deciding in that moment to finally forgive him. "What do you mean Doc? How do you know I'll never see you again?"

"Because it is dangerous for me to cross my own time-stream. I'm going to set a warning around these coordinates in the Tardis databanks. I can only hazard a guess that my future self ended up here accidentally. No, I won't be coming back. If not for the fact that I had screwed things up, I wouldn't have been needed this time." He pulled Kaylee in for a second hug. "But brave heart, dear Kaylee, I can see I'm leaving the 'verse in capable hands."

When he let go of her, it looked as though she was holding back tears. She looked around at Serenity and its crew and nodded. "The best," she agreed with a big smile.

"Alright, Admiral," Mal said, drawing his gun. "Your turn. In the box. You too, Operative."

The Operative stood, but his manacles were still chained to the weight bench, which itself was bolted to the deck. While Simon helped the Admiral to his feet, River pulled her kukri and walked behind the Operative. She put the blade to his throat and bent him backward with it. Then she unlocked the chain and walked him to the Tardis.

The Admiral followed, but stopped before entering the Tardis. He turned to Mal and said, "You should know that there isn't anywhere in the 'verse far enough away that I won't be back."

"You'd best pray you're wrong on that," Mal said menacingly.

"In you go now," the Doctor said, and gave the Admiral a little push with the tip of his umbrella. He turned and found Mal staring him down. The Doctor gave a little jump.

"Same goes for you, Doctor. If I do see either of them again, I'm holding you responsible," Mal said.

The Doctor nodded gravely. "Duly noted, Captain."

Mal nodded, then looked the Tardis up and down. "Doctor, I don't want to get too curious about your box here, and I'm not going to ask how they all fit inside. I'll just assume it's somehow bigger on the inside. Only thing I care about is getting it off my boat. So... How do we do this? Do I need to land her somewhere? Just open the bay doors, or something?"

The Doctor chuckled. "Oh, no, that won't be necessary. Just stand back. I think you'll find this... interesting."

He stepped to the door. "After you, Ace," he said. She stepped inside. He raised his hat to the crew. "Ta!" he said, and closed the door.

There was an echoing whooshing sound, and the light on the top of the box started to blink. The box faded from sight, then reappeared. It faded over and over, in time with the light and the sound until it disappeared completely. The noise of it lingered on for a few more moments.

"I'll be damned," Mal said under his breath. He looked over at River, then at Kaylee. "It supposed to do that?" he asked, pointing.

* * *

On a grassy, green hill overlooking a wide valley filled with milling people, a blue box slowly faded into existence. On another hill across the valley, a man in a long brown coat ushered a young lady into an identical box, shut the door, and shortly after, it faded from view.

The Doctor opened the Tardis door and stepped outside. "Right this way, ladies and gentlemen," he said. A long line of people stepped out of the box, looking around and blinking in the sunlight.

At the end of the long line was the Operative, followed by the Admiral and finally Ace. The Admiral looked around in all directions and breathed deeply of the air. Finally he turned back to the Doctor. "Alright, Doctor, where are we? I'll admit I don't recognize this moon." He looked up into the overcast sky for some clue to their location.

"Why, this is the Earth, my good Admiral," the Doctor said, patting down his pockets. After some searching he produced a key and motioned toward the Admiral's cuffs.

The Admiral proffered his wrists, and the Doctor set about unlocking the cuffs. "But that's not possible. The Earth was destroyed 500 years ago!"

"Yes, or so the popular fairy tales go," the Doctor said, removing the cuffs and putting them in his pants pocket. He jumped up and down several times and said, "Still, it feels pretty real to me."

The Admiral rubbed at his wrists and scowled at the Doctor. The Doctor smiled to himself and approached the Operative, brandishing the key.

The Operative turned his back to give the Doctor access to his manacles. "What makes you think that once my hands are free I won't snap your neck and take your ship back to the Core Worlds?"

"Three things. Number one: No one other than me could possibly fly my Tardis, and there is no power you possess that could make me do it for you. Number two: Just look around you! You are on Earth! Just down this hill are colonists from outside the 'verse you knew, ready to rebuild. They are desperately in need of both leadership and security. The skills that brought the two of you to the top of your respective categories will be absolutely vital to the survival of the human race on their home planet. If there is a more enticing reason to stay, I don't know it."

The manacles came off, and the Doctor looked around for a place to put them. He pulled out his pant pocket, but it was too small, then he opened his jacket to look at the internal pockets and rejected those too. Finally he just tossed them onto the ground a little ways off from them and dusted off his hands.

The Operative turned around to face the Doctor. The look on his face was cold and calculating. He stretched his arms and flexed his fingers. "And the third thing?" he asked.

"Well, I hate to even mention it. But with the after-effects of the drug, you are going to be highly suggestable for a while, and I suggest you don't kill or kidnap anyone. How's that?"

The Operative, too, scowled at the Doctor.

"Doctor," the Admiral called out. He lifted one hand to the back of his head and touched the aux port there. "The upload was real. I know that much. I can still feel the pain... But I remember everything. Is that your doing?"

"Yes, Admiral. I updated the software before you had a chance to upload. What good is a lesson like that if you don't remember learning it?"

"And what lesson was I meant to learn?", the Admiral asked.

"Humility for a start. But don't worry. You'll have time to contemplate your lesson and decide what it means to you." The Doctor walked back over to Ace and squeezed her arm affectionately. "We'd best be going, Ace. Goodbye Admiral, Operative."

"Just Steadman now, I think," the Admiral said, thoughtfully. "August Steadman. And we'd better come up with a better name for you as well. I don't think 'Operative' has the same meaning around these parts," the Admiral said.

"Elba," the Operative said. "Long ago, my name was Elba. Funny, I think I'd actually forgotten until just now."

"Goodbye then, August. Goodbye, Elba," the Doctor said, and followed Ace into the Tardis.


	13. Chapter 13

_Epilogue:_

Malcolm Reynolds sat upright, startled awake in the pitch black of his bunk. He tried to quiet his breathing so he could hear again the sound that had woken him up.

Suddenly he felt the point of a blade press against his chest. "Just wanted to say goodnight, sir," came the sound of Zoë's voice. Mal relaxed for a moment, but Zoë pressed a bit harder with the blade to remind him not to fully relax. "We haven't had a proper chance to talk of late, sir, and I wanted to be sure to get your attention while you were otherwise unoccupied."

Mal gulped audibly. "I'm listening," he said.

Zoë leaned in close. "If you ever side-line me in the middle of a mission again, I will gut you in your sleep. Understood?"

"Duly noted."

The blade tip was withdrawn from his chest. "Goodnight, Captain."


End file.
